The Hunter, the Wolf and the Stilinski
by alphinski
Summary: When Sam and Dean drop into Beacon Hills they get more than they bargained for in the form of one Stiles Stilinski. Aka the one where Stiles is not a kid, goddammit Dean, Scott and Derek are furious and Sam is laughing at everyone. pre-Sterek.
1. The Hunter, the Wolf and the Stilinski

**A/N: **I'm sorry. As far as timelines are concerned, Teen Wolf post season 2 (minus alpha pack) and Supernatural season 5ish but not really I don't even know it has been way too long.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural or Teen Wolf

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**"The Hunter, the Wolf and the Stilinski"**

"Busty Asian Beauties?"

Stiles almost fell off his chair, dropping the magazine as he scrambled to his feet and yelping when he managed to take down a paper weight with him. His toe was definitely going to be bruised after that one. He looked up to meet a pair of green eyes and a knowing smirk which was completely uncalled for because no, that was not his magazine. Jackson must have slipped it into his bag at lunch.

"I uh-it's not mine" he explained, running a hand through his hair "My friend-well he isn't really my friend but-"

"Relax kid!" the guy's smirk grew wider if that was even possible and behind him his companion rolled his eyes "We won't tell"

"_Derek_" hissed the taller one, stepping forward so that he was even more…tall. Seriously the guy looked like Sasquatch-he even had the hair for it. Derek shrugged and held up his hands defensively so Sasquatch carried on. "Look, we're sorry for interrupting you but we were just looking for the Sheriff."

"Yeah, I'm Dean and he's S-tan" added Dean "We're with animal control. We're here about the attacks"

"The…attacks!" cried Stiles "Of course! The animal attacks! Dad told me you were coming." He took in their suits and frowned "A bit formal for your line of work aren't you?" The two exchanged glances and Stan glared at Derek.

"We um…take our work seriously" said Derek quickly looking away from his colleague.

"Right" nodded Stiles and Stan gave him a tight smile. "Right I should go get him then- the Sheriff I mean… because you're here about the attacks"

* * *

"Hey!" cried Stiles earning him a disapproving look from the receptionist as he sprinted out of the station "Hey wait up!" He narrowly missed careening into the two men but at least he'd caught up. "Who _are _you?" he panted out as they fixed him with quizzical looks.

"We told you" said Sasquatch evenly "We're from animal control. We're here to identify what's been causing the attacks"

"Yeah you might have fooled my Dad with that but _Stan Shunpike? Really?_" he rolled his eyes at the guilty looks they exchanged "Look, if you don't want to tell me why you're here_ fine. _At least tell me your names, the _real _ones."

"I don't know what-"

"Sam," the shorter one spoke up, ignoring Sasquatch's scowl, "His name is Sam and I'm Dean"

"Cool so what brings you to Beacon Hills?" smiled Stiles, "It isn't exactly the most exciting holiday destination"

"Nice try, kid" said Dean, "you asked for our names and I just gave them to you so if you could tell us where the nearest motel is…we'll be on our way"

Stiles gave them the directions and watched them drive off much too fast in an impressive beast that took up half the road. "Sam and Dean," he muttered to himself, noting the plates of their car. It looked like he would be busy tonight.

* * *

"Oh my _God_!" yelped Stiles when turning on the light revealed the now _almost _familiar figure of Derek Hale in his bedroom. He stood by the window with his arms crossed, complete with leather jacket and signature scowl. He must have a wardrobe of them- the jackets, not the scowls although that may be possible too. "Dude you have _got _to stop doing that!" he cried, throwing his arms up in frustration and making straight for the desk.

"Who were they?" asked Derek, completely ignoring Stiles' protests like he always did.

"Oh great, so you're _stalking _me now"

"No, I can _smell _them on you," snapped the werewolf. Stiles could feel him hovering by his shoulder as he typed in his password. Coupled with the hardness of his voice, it was unnerving to say the least. "Who were they?"

"I don't know but I'm going to find out."

He didn't have much to go by. He knew that they were definitely not with animal control and he was fairly certain that their names were in fact Sam and Dean although now that he thought about it he couldn't be sure they hadn't lied a second time. A Google search turned up millions of 'Sam and Dean's as well as dozens of Facebook profiles with the name 'Dean Samuels' but no one who looked like the two he had met. Even the number plates didn't work. They had been taken from some truck in Ohio.

Groaning in frustration, Stiles leaned back almost knocking heads with Derek who had been reading over his shoulder. "I need more!"

"You have their names and their plates! I've seen people tracked down with less than that!"

"That's because most of your friends use their noses… and their teeth. Do you even _know _how many 'Sam's and 'Dean's there are in North America?" Stiles hoped his voice wasn't actually as shrill as he heard it. "And those plates are fake. Whatever they are doing, they're good." He paused, considering their choices, "maybe we should just try asking them again. You can use the angry wolf look."

"You're not talking to them," said Derek flatly. He moved back, shifting his glare from the computer screen to Stiles.

"Why not?"

"Because they could be dangerous…" he began and yeah like that was going to stop Stiles. Unfortunately Derek knew exactly what he was thinking. "I'm serious Stiles, you're a part of my pack now and that means we do this my way. I'm the alpha."

"Yes, you say that a lot but you know," Stiles grinned at him pointedly, "I'm never good at doing what I'm told."

* * *

"So the Hale house, huh?" Sam looked up from the computer screen and Dean jumped, cursing under his breath as he spun around. When he saw who it was he sighed.

"Dude, what are you _stalking _us now?"

"No, I just really like the library is all," smiled Stiles, ignoring Dean's muttered "of course you do". If they didn't want to be found they really should have chosen a more subtle car. The Impala they drove stood out like a… well like an Impala in a street full of ordinary town cars. "If you want to go to the Hale house, I can take you there you know."

"Thanks but we're fine," said Sam, giving him a tight smile. "We were just leaving actually." He gathered up a torn black book that looked more like a diary than anything and gestured for Dean to follow.

"You might get lost!" Stiles called after them. The librarian did not look impressed, but then again she rarely did. Ever since that time he had brought Derek here and she'd tried to hit on him… it hadn't exactly ended well.

"Listen kid…. Wait what is your name, anyway?"

"Stiles… Stiles Stilinski"

"Stiles Stilinski?" Dean gaped at him but Stiles was used to that.

"It's, that's just what people call me."

"Oh," he still looked like he was expecting some kind of punch line. "Okay well look Stiles, even if we _did _want to visit the Hale house -which we _don't_- but if we _did, _we would still have this thing they call a _map_."

"But it's private property!"

Dean sighed dramatically. "What do you want from us kid?" he asked, giving Sam an exasperated look. Sam just looked amused.

"My name is _Stiles _and I'm the Sheriff's son. Trust me, I can help you"

"Fine, you can come!"

"Dean!"

"He might as well," shrugged Dean, "You know he's never going to stop, right?"

"But-"

"Cool! This is going to be fun!" cried Stiles. He grinned at the two men. "We should go outside though, Ms. Sevoy doesn't look impressed."

Sam sighed, leading the way out of the automatic glass doors, towards the waiting Impala.

"So tell me Stiles, where is the best burger place in Beacon Hills?" asked Dean, fishing for keys in his pocket. Sam fixed him with a look but he shrugged. "Just doing some research."

"What he _means _is what can you tell us about the Hale house?" said Sam, not unkindly.

Stiles chuckled. "There is one down the road but dude, you _have _to try the curly fries there. They're amazing!" Dean smirked appreciatively. "As for the Hale house… well that is a long story."

* * *

"Who _are _they?" asked Scott, adjusting the school bag he had slung over a shoulder.

"Sam and Dean," Stiles told him, watching as both he and Allison turned to stare. "What? You know me… I did my research. Besides, they're actually pretty cool. Dean likes curly fries and Sam reads 'Game of Thrones'. He even said he's lend me his copy of 'A Dance with Dragons' if they stick around long enough."

"So you… know them?" asked Allison while Scott was too busy gaping.

"Know isn't exactly the word I would use I mean I took them to the Hale house yesterday because they wanted to do some-"

"_You took them to the Hale house?" _Scott spun around , holding Stiles by the shoulders as though he was trying to shake the answers out of him. "Dude! Does Derek know?"

"Uh well no I might have neglected to mention it to him so, no…" he took one look at Scott's horrified expression and gulped. Oh God Derek was probably plotting his downfall right now. It seemed like a good idea at the time. "Look they were just interested because they wanted to write an article about Beacon Hills for their magazine. Turns out they're not actually with animal control! Who'd have thought right? Right?" The other two just watched him blankly.

"A magazine article?" asked Allison, raising her eyebrow. "Beacon Hills isn't exactly a tourist destination. She lowered her voice, glancing around quickly to make sure no one else was within earshot. "What if they're hunters?"

"Oh. _Oh,_" Stiles tried to process that -the _implications _of that- while avoiding Scott's wide-eyed looks. "But-but just because they're new to town doesn't mean they're involved in the…you know the wolf hunter business," he said finally, "I mean if they're hunters, wouldn't your Dad know them? Has he said anything?"

"No… but I could check just- just be careful okay?" She had spotted Lydia strutting towards them and with a quick smile at Stiles and peck on Scott's cheek she went over to greet her friend.

"I don't know man, maybe we should stay away from them for a while," said Scott, shrugging his shoulders and continuing towards the school, leaving Stiles to ponder how on earth Lydia could walk like she owned the place in twelve inch heels. "They look sort of dodgy"

"They look like underwear models except with shirts on…and pants," said Stiles, jogging to catch up. "But if they are hunters I could always go undercover. I could spy on them and report back to you- just in case!"

"If they _are _hunters they could hurt you for it," Scott replied without missing a beat. "It's too dangerous."

"And you sound like Derek!" cried Stiles, "look I can do this! Besides you owe me. Remember what happened the last time you didn't listen to me?"

"That was different," said Scott, scowling at the thought, "We still haven't talked about how creepy it is that your vision came true by the way. Besides at least I escaped."

"Yes you did but you _might _not be so lucky next time, Scott!" talking to Scott lately had become simply exhausting. "We're talking about guns! You know actual weapons that go bang and can _kill _you!" A couple of months ago Stiles had a vision-a terrifying vision right in the middle of chemistry- where Scott had been pulled from Allison's car at gunpoint by Chris Argent. There had been yelling and screaming followed by a gunshot. Scott had insisted going on the date anyway and had escaped with some sort of peace contract where he wasn't allowed to see Allison. (He had broken it pretty much every night)

"I know what a gun is Stiles!" replies Scott indignantly. He sped up.

"Just trust me on this, okay?" Stiles stumbled as he tried to keep up. "We can't take any more cha-"

He was cut off by perfectly painted nails that had reached out for the front of his shirt and had pulled him away from Scott.

"Erica," nodded Scott in greeting, not looking surprised at all. He'd probably smelt her half an hour ago or maybe it was one of those weird pack things. Stupid werewolves. "I'll see you later Stiles," he added, forcing Stiles to watch as his best friend continued down the corridor, leaving him at the mercy of a psychotic she-wolf. A psychotic she-wolf who could rip him into bite-sized pieces with the effort it took to lift a finger. All Stiles could do was splutter out protests because if that didn't violate the best friend code, he wasn't sure what _did._

"Hey Erica, fancy seeing you here! Why yes, I would love to stay for a chat but Harris will string me up if I'm late so I really have to get going. Sorry!" He tried to make a run for it but Erica just grinned, showing her teeth as she pulled him back and threw him not too politely against the lockers. She did that a lot and it was starting to get on his nerves (Not that he could really do much about that per se).

"Hello Stiles, guess what?" she smirked when she saw him gulp. "I don't care." He counted to five as she stepped back before straightening up, trying to gather the remnants of his dignity. There was very little of it left and he wanted to preserve it.

"What do you want?" he asked in his best 'I'm not afraid of psychotic she-wolves' voice. Judging by the widening of her smile it hadn't worked.

"Derek is mad," she informed him in a sing-song voice. "He said that the stunt you pulled with Sam and Dean was stupid and if you're not careful he _will _rip your throat out."

"Since when were you his messenger?"asked Stiles, trying to think of anything _but _how angry Derek probably was.

"I'm _not _his messenger. I'm a part of his pack," there was something in the look she gave, the way she stressed the last word that caught Stiles. He didn't know what it was but he stored it at the back of his mind to mull over later on. "He doesn't want you talking to them."

"Well _you _can tell Derek that I will talk to whoever I like because I'm not one of his little betas. He can't tell me what to do."

Erica snorted, looking him over with that strange considering look she had worn before. "Point taken," she said finally, nodding and joining the sea of other students rushing to get to class. Stiles stared after her, wondering when daily assaults by werewolves had become a normal occurrence in his life.

* * *

The next time Stiles ran into them, it was entirely by accident. He had simply popped into the burger place to make sure his Dad hadn't stopped by for a lunchtime indulgence session. (He was on a strictly no junk-food diet but Stiles was still suspicious.) It wasn't his fault that Dean had decided to dine there at that particular hour.

He was about to grab his food and walk out because despite being all for breaking the rules, an angry Derek was something he definitely did not want to deal with when Dean looked up and spotted him.

"Hey kid!" he cried, apparently unaware that everyone was staring at them. His grin just widened as he beckoned for Stiles to join them.

An invite like that was too good to refuse and besides all Stiles had lined up for that evening was video games and homework. Smiling back, he made a beeline for their booth. The first thing he noticed was that Sam was missing which was weird because Stiles had sort of assumed they were attached at the hip. Where Sasquatch went, Dean was sure to follow. In his place was a dark haired man in a trench coat. He had been staring at Dean but when Stiles approached he looked up.

"It will work out," he said with conviction Stiles didn't know a man could posses. Of course he also didn't know what the hell the guy was going on about so he just watched as Dean fixed the man with a pointed look.

"Not now, Cas" he said before turning to smile at Stiles and gesturing to the empty seat beside him. "Let the kid eat in peace."

"But-"

"Cas, we've talked about this."

"But Dean he must know, it is obviously troubling him," He stared at Stiles, his blue eyes seeming to look right _into _him. Stiles shivered and dropped his gaze to the plate of chips in front of him. There was something about the man that marked him out as different, inhuman even. He had the look of someone who had seen many decades yet he only seemed to be in his 30s. there was also something else. There was a calmness that seemed to resonate from within him which might have even been relaxing if it wasn't so damn foreboding.

"Don't mind him," said Dean, stealing some fries even as Stiles watched. "He's a good guy, just a little… eccentric." Stiles smiled, making a grab for Dean's sauce. Dean pushed it just out of reach and he made a face. "Better luck next time kid."

Stiles didn't bother telling him he had a name. Instead he turned to Cas. "I'm Stiles," he said, holding out his hand. Cas hesitated before smiling and taking it.

"I am Castiel"

"Castiel? That's a nice name," said Stiles conversationally, "like the angel right?" The other two gaped at him for a second before quickly hiding it with hurried nods. "I like researching the supernatural," Stiles felt the need to explain. "At least your parents picked you a name with an interesting origin, even if it is _strange._ It's more than I can say for my own."

"Stiles Stilinski," Dean chuckled to himself, "At least it has a ring to it."

"No, no, no," said Stiles, "that's just what everyone _calls _me. My real name is much, _much _worse."

For some reason Dean found _that _hilarious. He tilted his head back and laughed, thudding the table and almost upsetting Stiles' milkshake in the process. Cas watched him seemingly intrigued or maybe it was fondness, Stiles couldn't really tell. The sight of the two however made him snort as he held back laughter and before long the waitress who had been serving them politely told them to quieten down or leave (not before slipping her number into Dean's receipt of course). Dean pocketed it with a grin, on the verge of cracking up again.

* * *

"Why are you telling me? He's _your _alpha!"

Erica rolled her eyes while Issac at least looked _slightly _sheepish. "We just thought he might have-"

"He spends more time at your place than he does with us," Erica cut in, "so do you know what's wrong or not?"

Stiles looked at Scott for help but he just shrugged, making gooey eyes at Allison instead. Sighing, he turned back to the betas who were watching him expectantly. He would have preferred Boyd who actually excelled in diplomacy once you got past the hulk-like build. "look I have no idea what you're talking about but you know it's the anniversary of Laura's death soon… maybe if you give him some time…"

Erica's eyes widened at that. "Of course!" she said softer than before, "how could we have missed that? Yes of course!"

Issac nodded his agreement. "Thanks Stiles," he said as Erica's arm curled around his, pulling him away.

"Well that was… weird," Stiles muttered as he watched them go. He had to agree though. Despite his constant lurking, Derek had definitely pulled back these last couple of weeks. Even when he did show up, he was snappier than usual.

"Yeah, why'd they come to you?"

"I think it's nice that Derek has people to look out for him," said Allison thoughtfully. It was strange how much could change in less than a year. Allison had blamed Derek for her mother's death at first but she'd grown to accept that it was an accident. She still froze at the sight of Derek wolfed out and sometimes Scott had even confessed to being worried sick when she took time off to trek through the woods alone with bow in hand but the girl had definitely changed.

"They're his pack," snorted Scott, "they're supposed to care about him."

"Yes but-" Allison paused and Stiles who had been staring intently at the ground as he thought about ways to help Derek through this time of year, looked up.

Two figures were making their way hurriedly from the parking lot. Beside him, Scott stiffened but Stiles didn't need his confirming growl because he recognized them immediately.

"Dean!" he called out to them, ignoring Scott's scowl.

"Hey kid," greeted Dean enthusiastically, eyeing Scott and Allison before fixing his smile back onto Stiles. "Who're your friends?"

"Uh this is Scott," Scott continued to glare, "and Allison," at least she greeted the man with a smile. Stiles didn't want to push it though, especially when he saw Dean's gaze lingering on the girl and Scott's glare becoming more feral as he noticed it too. "And guys this is Dean and Sam… What are you doing here anyway?" Sam nudged his brother who promptly turned back to Stiles.

"We were looking for an Adrian Harris," Sam spoke up.

"Mr. Harris?" asked Allison before Stiles could, "He's our chemistry teacher. What do you want with Mr. Harris?"

"We're… old friends," Dean told her, smiling again. "Found out he was in town so figured we'd pay him a visit. Is he here today?"

"Yeah, that's his car over there," said Stiles, pointing to the car in question. He noticed Scott eyeing him expectantly and he didn't need a translator to know what he was thinking. He wanted Dean gone. "We really have to get to training now but call me if you need anything," he told the two quickly. The nodded their affirmative and were just out of earshot when Scott rounded on him.

"They have your number now?"

* * *

"Why are you spending so much time with them?" Derek practically pounced on him the second he closed the door. The cry Stiles let out was therefore completely dignified. Anybody in his situation would have done the same, thank you very much. Stuck between his bedroom door and an extremely angry werewolf with glowing red eyes and _teeth, _Oh God he could almost see Derek's _teeth_.

Stiles shoved him away, looking up in surprise when it actually worked. Derek stood back a couple of feet, eyes still fixed on Stiles but not glowing any more. He was looking expectant and it took a second for Stiles to remember that he'd asked a question.

"Well why do you care?" he challenged, crossing his arms and staring right back. Two could play this game.

"You didn't answer my questions Stiles."

"And you didn't answer mine," Stiles knew it was childish but he was _not _giving up that easily. He was sick of werewolves telling him what to do and he was going to make a stand no matter how useless or pathetic it was. And just like that they were at a stalemate. Of course it wasn't long before his compulsive need to fill the silence took over. "I have nothing else to do, alright?" he sighed, throwing his hands up and moving for his desk chair. "Scott is practically glued to Allison, Lydia and Jackson are inseparable and I'm pretty sure Danny hates me… and _you _won't let me anywhere _near _your house."

It might have been the change in angle or maybe the lighting but Stiles could have sworn Derek's face softened at that. "Stiles-"

"It's ridiculous!" he cried, "I have to resort to occasionally sneaking in. I thought we were friends! We were even going to fix it up you know for your betas and stuff but- _what happened_?"

"Noth-"

"I mean I let you climb through my window whenever you like. It's only fair you let me do the same," Stiles was pretty sure that wasn't how he'd planned this speech to go (and it really had been a long time coming) but it felt good having put it out there.

"Look," Derek said finally, staring down at the rug and running a hand through his hair. "I can't tell you right now but I'll show you soon… I promise"

Stiles crossed his arms and stared at Derek. The alpha refused to meet his gaze, looking out the window instead.

So there was something, something that had Derek worried. Stiles just wished that he would share because it was infuriating _knowing _that something was wrong but not being able to fix it. Stiles hated feeling useless.

Surprisingly it was Derek who broke the silence. "Are you free afterschool tomorrow?" he asked, finally looking up.

"Well I was going to hang out with Dean but-" he watched Derek's scowl at the mention of the name and couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, I'm free"

"Good"

* * *

"The guy shouldn't even be a teacher," Dean muttered. "He's _creepy_" It was possibly the fifth time in the half hour since their meeting with Harris that he'd said those exact words. Since when had his brother even taken to muttering?

"Dean, you cannot judge the teaching capabilities of an individual based on personality traits alone," Cas told him in his matter-of-factly way. Dean (and Sam) were both able to hide their jumps and Dean didn't even let the steering wheel slip as they rounded the corner. They were (almost) used to the teleporting angel now.

"You weren't there, Cas" Dean said, catching their new passenger's gaze through the rear-view mirror. "He's an ass"

"I am almost certain the school would not employ a male donk-" Cas was saying but Sam was too busy reviewing what they'd learnt so far. They'd broken into the Sheriff's department last night to find all the files on the Hale house fire. Harris had been taken in for question regarding the incident and was one of the few who had actually survived afterwards. There was definitely something suspicious about the fire and they were going to investigate it in case there was something there that fell into their division, at least until they caught the rogue werewolf.

Kate Argent had taken the fall for the fire and unfortunately she was dead so they couldn't talk to her. Harris was their last resort save for Derek Hale himself but the school teacher had been not only an ass (Dean was right about that) but a dead end as well.

"You might want to stay clear of the Argents' house," Dean was saying, "They might sense your angel mojo. Bobby said they're old timers so…"

"I can handle their family. I have had dealings with them in the past." Sam didn't bother asking exactly how long ago that was but he was sure it went back at least a couple of centuries.

"Cas, he's right. Just in case," Sam told the angel instead.

"We'll yell if we need anything," Dean added.

Cas looked to each of them in turn before nodding. He was gone before Dean had even indicated to pull over.

"Dean… do you think they knew Dad?" Sam asked as he reached for the . They were still learning new things about their father years after his death.

"Knowing Dad, yeah why not?" That was all he said till they reached for the large, elegantly designed wooden door. "The guy really doesn't go for subtle, does he?"

"All the houses are like that," Sam pointed out. This town was filled with too large houses yet still managed to hold on to its sleepy feel.

The door opened to reveal Stiles' pretty dark haired friend from earlier that day. To her credit she managed to mask her surprise just as well as they did. "Can I help you?" she asked, glancing behind her shoulder even as she held the door stiffly so they couldn't see behind her.

"Hi, Allison right?" the girl didn't respond "We were hoping to see Chris Argent, is he your father?"

"What is this about?" she asked, ignoring the question and just watching them with unmasked suspicion.

"Look Allison-" Dean began and Sam could sense his brother heading into dangerous territory.

"We just want to buy some guns," he said quickly before Dean could finish. He fished out their fake gun licenses to show the girl. She studied them carefully and looked like she was going to protest before thinking better of it and stepping back.

"Dad, it's for you," she called, opening the door wider. A slightly built brown haired man stepped out from a door to the left. He nodded to his daughter who sighed and with one last look at the two in the doorway, disappeared upstairs.

"We don't do after hours. Check back in tomorrow," said Argent, watching them with grey eyes that were almost assessing, much like his daughter.

"We're not here for the guns. We're here because you're doing a lousy job of protecting this town"

"What he means is, we're hunters and we want to talk to you about you… werewolf situation" Sam cut in quickly. He watched Argent's face closely which was the mask of nonchalance most hunters wore.

"I'm handling it" he said tightly.

"Four dead in as many weeks, is _that _your idea of handling it, Argent, really?"

"You don't know _what _you're dealing with _kid. _I've heard of you, Sam and Dean Winchester. While you two were busy ending the world, we were here fighting the werewolves so unless you want them to rip you apart you leave it to my family."

"We know that we might be encroaching on your space," Sam started, keeping his voice low and hoped Chris would do the same. He looked around warily, hoping the neighbours were already in bed. "But we can help you. We've hunted werewolves before."

"Not like these. They aren't the ones hunters like you are used to. They've adapted. They don't just turn during the full moon, they can turn at will. They even hunt in packs and if you take one down they will _all _come after you."

"And we'll put a silver bullet through the lot of them," said Dean, despite looking just a bit less comfortable about this new turn of events.

Chris Argent chuckled. "You try that and see where it gets you."

* * *

_When Stiles wakes up in the middle of the woods and the first thing he thinks in I'm finally a werewolf. Scott had woken up like this on that first night as well. He slowly got to his feet, almost expecting a gaping wolf bite on his torso but alas, the pale skin was as smooth and freckled as ever. What he was doing outside Derek Hale's house, half naked and covered in dirt was therefore the million dollar question. _

_He turned around and was about to just leave because he was sure Derek wouldn't buy any of his feeble explanations when he felt something grasp his bare shoulder. A manly shriek escaped his mouth as he flew back, landing in a carpet of dead leaves and struggling to scramble back further. _

"_Derek didn't tell me we were expecting company," smirked a young woman with curly dark hair and grey eyes that were actually quite familiar. She moved closer and he tried to stifle the odd sounds of (not) fear he was making. "Boo!"_

"_Hi, uh- I was just um leaving because I don't have a shirt and um… Derek isn't here… that came out wrong I mean usually I'm fully clothed when Derek is around but right now…I'm rambling. Goddammit Stiles why won't you stop?"_

"_Stiles hmmm," she was grinning at him and wow she was really quite pretty in a 'could be a vampire from Twilight' kind of way. He hated Twilight. "I've heard a lot about you. Too much to be honest…"_

"_Oh. Oh" so it wasn't every day he found out a stranger he met in the woods knew a lot about him but… "I'm not trying to be rude or anything but who are you?" he asked before adding for good measure "also I still don't have a shirt on so you kinda owe me,"_

_The girl chuckled. "I'm Laura Hale"_

And of course that was when Stiles woke up, again, in his own bedroom this time. He took a second to collect his thoughts before jumping up and grabbing for his torch. He really hoped he was wrong but he needed to get to the Hale house to make sure.

_Dammit Derek what the hell did you get yourself into?_

* * *

**A/N: **Dude it's Supernatural. They have unicorns I'm pretty sure anything is possible!


	2. This is your Life

**A/N: **Thank you lovelies for favouriting/following, reviewing and just reading! :)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**"This is your Life"**

"You're Laura Hale" said Stiles, staring blankly at her.

"And you're Stiles Stilinski," Laura grinned back at him, "I've heard a lot about you but it's nice to know you actually exist."

And that was how Stiles ended up sprawled on the single decent couch in the Hale house (a new addition actually), with a dead-but-not-really-dead was-an-alpha sister-of-current-alpha maybe-even-a-ghost werewolf. They talked about nothing in particular because was sure that everything Kate and Peter as well as the circumstances of Laura's death were taboos. Instead Laura told him how she had suddenly '_woken up' _back in her old bedroom and Derek's initial distrust which had apparently been to a comical degree-Stiles was sorry he had missed it.

"He threw a sack of salt at you?" Stiles cried, barely holding back laughter. Somehow that actually did sound like Derek. "Where the hell did he get a _sack _of salt from?"

"Beats me but he was determined to prove I was some sort of ghost or something," she smiled like she was replaying the memory.

Stiles was going to ask her if she actually _was _a ghost. Honestly that is what he intended to do when he opened his mouth but all he could get out was, "you smile a lot." Laura cocked her head in surprise and of course Stiles felt the need to justify himself. "Derek… doesn't well I mean he does but it isn't so… easy and Peter was just creepy… no offense. I figured it was just a Hale thing but you… smile a lot and it's… genuine."

Laura blinked at him for a couple of seconds before her lips quirked again. Her smile didn't reach her eyes though and it was almost sad this time. "Derek used to smile a lot too, before…"

The words hung in the air and Stiles suddenly felt a stab of guilt that he didn't quite understand. He hadn't really known Derek when they were younger. Derek had just been one of the Hale children except apparently he had been more than that. Of course he was more than that. Stiles just hoped that with time he'd see more than just the brief glimpses of _that _Derek.

Thankfully Laura seemed to recover from whatever memories his ill thought out comments had dredged up. "So do you always visit my brother at midnight or is this a one-time thing?" she asked, breaking the uneasy silence that had settled between them. Her eyes were twinkling again and Stiles could swear she winked.

"I- well no I mean…you probably won't believe me," Stiles told her. He didn't quite believe it himself.

"I came back from the dead. Try me."

"Fair enough," said Stiles, leaning back into the couch and staring at the ceiling. "I had a dream…no a vision. I had a vision that I was here and I met you and well…" Stiles paused, still refusing to meet her eyes. Aside from Scott he'd told no one else about these vision things and now he was talking to _Laura Hale, _potential werewolf-ghost. "It just felt _real _and the last time I had a dream like that, it came true so I thought I'd better come and check," he shrugged.

"Wow, this town is buzzing with this stuff," Laura said quietly. "Werewolves, hunters now ghosts and kids with premonitions too." She paused, apparently trying to sort through what he'd just told her. "How long have you been having these?"

"I don't get them all the time I mean I'm not psychic or anything but-" Stiles thought back to the vision with Scott and then even further back to the one with his mother. No, he swore he would never bring that up. "I had one about my friend Scott a few months ago I guess," he told her. "It's no big deal."

"Did you tell Deaton?" Laura asked. Stiles just wanted to drop the subject.

"No, he had enough werewolf stuff to deal with so-"

"Stiles," a rough voice cut him off.

Stiles whipped around to see Derek standing in the doorway. "Look, I know you told me not to come but I-" Derek's stunned silence melted away into something Stiles didn't recognize (or maybe he did but it just looked strange on Derek), wonder. Stiles was just glad the alpha wasn't mad. Well actually, if Laura is back doesn't that make her the alpha? _Not relevant, Stiles_.

Derek ran a hand through his hair nervously. Apparently Laura understood this better than Stiles did because she looked like she was biting back laughter. "So…you've met?" Derek asked finally, ignoring his sister.

"We've met," Laura confirmed gleefully, "in fact Stiles here was just telling me _why _he turned up to see you in the middle of the night." She nudged Stiles who couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. They were supposed to be comrades! United in an effort to embarrass Derek and possibly drive him mad at the same time.

Derek didn't look amused. Stiles really didn't want to stick around. "Look it's been a long day and well Laura- _your sister, _Laura- is back and- and I won't tell anyone of course… I promise. I-I really shouldn't have come, sorry I can go home if you like. I just had a dream and- Laura will tell you the rest and we can talk tomorrow- I think it's best if I go…" Stiles managed to stammer out. He shook his head to chase away the dull throbbing that had set in. He'd arrived at midnight and they had been talking a while so it was definitely late- or early depending on what day it was. They could deal with whatever had just happened tomorrow. Right then he just needed sleep.

"I'll drive you," Derek told him. That would definitely have been the right thing to do but being alone in a car with Derek…

The werewolves had been bad enough but adding in the ghost, zombie, whatever the hell Laura was and then his visions; it was just too much weird all at once. "No, no I'll be fine," he assured Derek. The werewolf looked like he was going to insist so Stiles started backing away. "Bye Laura, it was nice meeting you."

"You take care of yourself," she called after him.

And _that_ was how Stiles found himself almost falling asleep as he drove alone on the secluded forest road that led home.

He really should have hit the dark shape moving in front of him but instead he found himself swerving to avoid it. Not one of his most brilliantly thought out actions. Neither was getting out and making sure his jeep was okay. No, after the many nights he'd spent criticizing majority of the characters in horror films; that was definitely not his best decision. Nonetheless, he was outside, walking around the jeep, checking for any scratches. It was getting dark and he had to squint, occasionally running a hand over the paint work to be sure.

He didn't see so much as feel the presence of the wolf. As he turned he heard a low growl and gulped, already imagining the angry amber eyes waiting for him.

"There there… nice Wolfie," he tried to sound cheerful but it came out as more of a squeak. He was more human than animal- just a couple of inches taller than Stiles and all lean muscle. He looked like he was barely twenty. _A young wolf, _Stiles thought. He hoped like hell that meant inexperience.

The wolf-man finally opened his mouth, looking up like he was going to howl but thinking better of it. He's an omega, Stiles remembered. He probably didn't have a pack to howl for. No sympathy lost on the guy though. He looked like he was going to pounce- _wait, no he is definitely going to pounce. _

Stiles had just enough time to steel himself before the omega lunged. The claws caught his shoulder when he couldn't duck to his side in time but it could have been worse.

The werewolf recovered easily. Grabbing Stiles by the front of his shirt and throwing him against the new dent in his jeep's side. A second later he had straightened up again, gripping Stiles' cheek with one hand so that Stiles could feel his nails digging in painfully and drawing blood.

"You reek," rasped the omega in a voice that sounded much older than it should have. He had a strong English accent that was definitely out of place in their town. "Their scent is all over you."

Stiles snorted despite his precarious position. "Really? Those are your last words? _That's _what you're going to say before you kill me?"

"Now, now," mocked the omega, letting go of Stiles to take a step back _and watch his prey_, Stiles' mind supplied. "Who said I was going to kill you?"

"Look man, I've had a _really _long day and usually I'm all for self-preservation but- if you're going to kill me just hurry up, or else just let me go home so I can sleep and we can deal with your macho wolf ass tomorrow."

"Okay, now I see why they keep you-" the omega suddenly dropped to his knees with a grunt, just as the sound of a gunshot went up. Blood was soaking through his fur covered torso where a bullet had punctured it.

"Stiles!" shouted a voice from the trees. Stiles looked up to see Dean walking towards them with a gun slung around his shoulders and another in hand. He couldn't even begin to remember why that was wrong. He focused on being relieved instead.

"Dean! What're you-" he stopped, horrified, when the werewolf who had slumped to the ground before, slowly began to move. Dean trained the gun back on him but the omega just continued to rise until he was back on his feet, grinning this time.

"What the-" Stiles heard Dean mutter as the man scowled at the werewolf. There were more gunshots and the werewolf momentarily staggered back from the force of the bullets but his smile did not waver.

"The bullets won't work unless they have wolfsbane!" yelled Stiles suddenly.

"But they're silver!"

"Ever heard of a myth, dude?"

The werewolf was just watching them curiously and Stiles hoped that his voice was enough to stress to Dean exactly how much _now _wasn't the time to test out theories and the like. Well actually he was getting desperate so… "So if you have any wolfsbane grenades or something hidden in that bag of yours, now would be really good time to use it…"

Dean kept fiddling with the bag like he'd been doing since he'd realized that the bullets weren't working. The werewolf just rolled his eyes. "You're methods are outdated, hunter."

And just like that, Dean is a hunter. _Now really isn't the time to question it Stiles, focus. _

"I…I know you!" he cried instead. Both of them stared at him. Dean's lips quirked and he looked quickly back down at his bag, then back at Stiles again. Stiles kept talking because apparently it was a talent of his. "You're the new librarian. You- I saw you there when I was followi-with Sam and Dean...you're Brian…no that's not it…"

"Brad," the werewolf told him, actually smiling and becoming less feral wolf-like. "It's a pity I have to kill you. I rather liked you."

"Whoa now! I call bullshit! You're the one who was all for," he did his best impression of Brad's accent, "_who said I'm going to kill you"_

"I'm sending a message to the alpha."

"Well I can give him the message. Trust me, he won't respond well to-"

"Stiles! Duck!"

Stiles instinctively ducked and was met with a warm, hard force that seemed to knock him towards the bushes beside the road. The werewolf let out a howl from behind him and suddenly he was coughing from the smoke that had filled the air.

"A wolfsbane grenade? Really Dean?" he managed to choke out, untangling himself from Dean. Apparently the guy had tackled him in an effort to get him out of harm's way. Brilliant.

"You can thank me later kid," Dean grinned at him, "let's get out of here first."

* * *

"Are you sure they were silver?" Sam asked, holding the phone further away from his ear when his brother informed him rather loudly that _yes, _they were. "But a silver bullet through the heart is supposed to kill any shape shifter!"

"Tell that to wolf-man," said Dean and Sam could almost see him grit his teeth.

"Fine…I'll do some research or something but Dean…"

"Yeah?"

"Argent _told _us this would happen. Maybe we should just back off?" Sam knew exactly how Dean would take that idea but it was worth a shot and at least later on he could say 'I told you so'.

"_Argent, _still doesn't know who the werewolf is so he can just-" the rest was swallowed up when Dean honked at someone at the other end.

"Alright, alright, I'll do some digging. Maybe Cas can help," Sam sighed, booting up his laptop even as Dean grunted and hung up. It was going to be a long day.

He was well into the third book in his stack ('an expert's guide to voodoo and summoning the powers of the land' because they were getting desperate) when there was a knock on the motel door.

"Hang on!" he yelled, rolling off the bed so he could pull the covers up to hide the books and scraps of paper strewn all around him.

Of all the people he'd expected to see, Allison Argent definitely didn't make the top ten. "Hi," she said, looking up at him with a small smile. "Can I come in?"

Sam blinked at her for a second but stepped aside with a quick "sure".

"I'm really sorry for barging in like this I mean- you're not busy are you?" she paused to look around, taking in the almost too-neat room. "I can come back later if you like…"

"No, no, now's good, I was just reading," he pointed to his laptop on the small desk in the corner.

"Okay, um…" she smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear and pausing. She looked nervous but determined and that made Sam all the more curious. He brought the desk chair over so she could have a seat, and perched on the end of the bed, waiting. Finally, the girl spoke up again, "you're a hunter." It wasn't really a question but Sam found himself nodding anyway. "How many of you- _us – _how many are out there?"

At this point Sam should've just asked her to leave in the most polite way possible before he was in over his head. He had definitely been planning to do just that. "Allison, I don't think I'm the one you should be talking-"

"No, you don't understand! The only hunters I've met are family and they- they always _lie_."

She watched him carefully, gauging his reaction. Luckily Sam had been through enough interrogations to know how to keep a straight face. "Do you want to become a hunter?" he asked slowly.

"I want to know what's out there." The words hung in the air for a while. Sam really didn't know what she meant but he wasn't going to turn her away either. Not just yet, at least.

"And you know about the-"

"-werewolves? Yes I do," she told him, apparently getting impatient. "Are you going to answer _my_ question now? How many?"

"Many, but not enough," Sam told her, sighing when she looked unsatisfied. "We try our best but they just keep coming back."

"The werewolves?" her fingers tapped a steady pattern against the armrests of her chair as she stared at him.

"Werewolves, spirits, demons, vampires, genies…" her eyes widened at that and with a start Sam realized he'd said too much. Apparently the Argents only hunted werewolves (or that's what they'd told Allison anyway). It was too late to back down now though and he was pleased to see Allison was nodding to herself in some kind of grim acceptance.

"You have to tell me everything that you know," she told him finally fixing her eyes on his again. Then almost as an afterthought she added, "please?"

_In way over your head, _his mind kindly supplied. In that moment he hated Chris Argent. He hated him because even though he had _a family, _a _life _(something that very few hunters could brag about) he chose to throw it all away and to drag _Allison_ into the hunt as well. Howhe did that with a clear conscience-

Allison stared at him expectantly and it really wasn't fair. Sam didn't dwell on it though. _It's her choice in the end. But can she still walk away afterwards? _Sam had tried to walk away once. He sincerely hoped Allison could do what he hadn't been able to.

"Alright," he told her.

It looked like he'd just found a reason to stay.

* * *

_Act cool, _he told himself, hoping Scott wouldn't smell his anxiety like he always did. Of course it didn't work this time either.

"What the hell happened?" demanded Scott as soon as he'd pulled Stiles away from the other students in the corridor. "Who did this to you, Stiles?"

"I…tripped and some glass-"

"Seriously? Do you _think _I'm stupid? Wait don't answer that. Just…we're best friends Stiles," _really? _Stiles was feeling guilty enough without the best friend card thank you very much.

"It was the omega," Stiles told him when the anguished puppy routine finally became unbearable. Those eyes- it just wasn't _fair. _"I was out last night and- oh _come on! _Don't look at me like that! I would've picked you up last night but I figured you'd be with Allison." That was half true but Scott was being an ass with this whole interrogation thing anyway.

"_That _has nothing to do with- with- this!" cried Scott and Stiles had never seen him this angry before- well he had but only right before his best friend wolfed out and tried to eat him. Stiles had tried to cover the cuts and grazes as best he could but the bloody omega had dug his claws deep into Stiles' cheek. His Dad had bought the glass story (after a couple of his long 'strict Sheriff' looks) but apparently Scott hadn't. "Who were you with? Derek? Issac?..._Dean?" _Scott practically snarled the last name out and suddenly Stiles felt the angry heat rise in him as well.

"_Actually, _I was with a murderous werewolf hell bent on _eating _me until _Dean _who you despise so much _saved _me from certain death. All while my _best friend _was-" he managed to stop himself before he finished that because really there was no use blaming Scott for this. He was just being an asshole, that's all.

"So he's a hunter then?" Apparently that was all the guy had gathered from this entire conversation and Stiles was just _so_ close to throttling him.

"Yes but-"

"But he's a hunter…" Scott looked at him worriedly, like he was willing Stiles to understand something. "They're all bad news, Stiles."

_Oh the irony. _

"He saved my life from a fucking _werewolf_ so forgive me for being a little grateful."

Stiles had finally had enough. They were supposed to be going home from practice together but Scott could find his own bloody ride.

* * *

"Lydia!" Stiles tried to sound surprised but he really wasn't. It was just his luck. Lydia wasn't exactly the problem, no it was more the guy whose arm had snuck around the girl's waist and who was pulling her very, _very _close. "Haven't seen you around in a while, how's things?"

"We had class together this morning, Stilinski," said Jackson before Lydia could answer. She batted him lightly in that sweet lovey way that made Stiles sick.

"Right, well..." Stiles felt around for a sufficiently sarcastic comeback but fell short.

"Stiles, you coming in?" a voice called out to him from the bar at the far corner of the small diner. Dean was grinning crookedly at him from one of the stools. The guy had no concept of 'inside voice' and Stiles silently thanked him for it.

"Isn't he the hunter?" hissed Jackson under his breath. Now that he was one of Derek's betas he was in the loop on all things supernatural. Stiles had almost forgotten that. Luckily, he didn't give a damn what Derek or his... henchman thought.

"I have to go. Bye Lydia," he said, pointedly ignoring the question. He made a beeline for the bar, ignoring the gazes he felt on his back. "Thanks," he muttered as he took the seat next to Dean.

"Pretty girl," Dean commented, not so subtly turning around.

Stiles snorted.

"So you have history," grinned Dean, clearly not taking the hint. Honestly, Stiles could not believe that this was the guy who had been scowling and shooting at the werewolf last night. He was just too... _happy_. "You owe me, kid so you better tell me more."

He poked Stiles who had buried his head in his hands. "We are not talking about Lydia Martin," Stiles muttered into his sleeve.

Dean sighed and the nudging stopped. "So are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to-"

Luckily the lady who had been calculating something by the till, took that moment to interrupt. "What can I get you?" she asked brightly. Stiles lifted his head up and forced a smile. 'Tania' it said on her name tag.

"You can get me..." Stiles narrowed his eyes at the orangey brown concoction in Dean's hand. "Whatever he's having," he finished with his most convincing look.

"Nice try," smiled Tania, "how about a coke?"

"Sprite," said Stiles, just to be difficult. He hated small towns and he hated being son of the Sheriff (Sometimes. His father's job did have some perks).

While she left them to get his drink, Stiles slid his stool closer to Dean's. The man didn't look wary so Stiles quickly reached for his glass.

"Whoa!" chuckled Dean, expertly sliding it just out of reach so that Stiles was left flailing. "There is no way I'm giving the Sheriff's kid booze. I've been locked up a few times but not for something _that _stupid."

"Wait, you've been arrested before? Why?" Between the fake identities and the breaking and entering, Stiles wasn't really surprised, just curious.

"Murder..." he saw Stiles' jaw drop open and quickly added, "I was framed for that one, posing as FBI agents, escaping prison, you know, the usual," Dean shrugged nonchalantly but Stiles could see his lips quirk, "my brother and I are actually on the run in a few states."

"Oh great, I'm harbouring yet another potentially murderous criminal. My Dad will be so proud...wait you and Sam are brothers?"

"How many other criminals have you harboured exactly?" asked Dean, apparently choosing to ignore the question. Tania returned with his Sprite just then and Stiles took it with a nod.

"Just the one."

"Derek?"

Stiles tried to look affronted for Derek's sake. "Just because he lives out in the woods by himself, never smiles and has a strange affinity for black clothing does not mean he's a criminal," Dean raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Derek... but he was framed as well." Dean looked like he was going to argue and Stiles _really _didn't want to carry on discussing Derek's criminal history or Stiles' association with Derek or just anything to do with Derek at all. "So what happens now that we know who the werewolf is?" he asked.

Dean paused to consider that. "Sam and I will take care of it," he said casually.

Stiles wasn't satisfied. "You still don't know how to kill him," he pointed out.

"Sam is researching that right now... wait, do _you_ knowhow to kill it?" Stiles shook his head. Dean didn't look entirely convinced but he let it go, choosing to take a sip from his drink instead. Stiles watched him, wondering if now was a good time to ask if he could tag along when they 'took care of it'.

"Thanks for this morning by the way," he said finally, "becoming werewolf chow is not what I have planned for the foreseeable future."

"No problem, kid... just doing my job," Dean smiled, "what were you doing out so late, anyway?"

"Uh..." just had a dream that Derek's dead werewolf sister isn't dead, drove into the woods to find that it wasn't just a dream, no big deal. "I was looking for mushrooms," Stiles said out loud with his most innocent smile.

Dean scoffed, "you were looking for the werewolf, weren't you?"

"The werewolf?" Stiles tried to mask his surprise. That is exactly the kind of half-thought out, completely insane plan he would have actually come up with (dragging Scott along as well of course). "Uh yes..."

Dean smirked. "You made one hell of a side kick you know," he said. "We should do that again."

Stiles opened his mouth to argue that he was most definitely _not _the side kick in last night's events but thought better of it. "Is this you inviting me along on another hunting trip, Dean?" he asked instead. His stomach surged with anticipation that seemed to have crept up on him. As completely terrifying as it was, there was no denying the thrill of it all (and besides, if the guy had _wolfsbane grenades _he probably had a tonne of other ridiculously awesome weapons too).

"Depends, do I need written permission from the Sheriff?" Stiles punched his shoulder and he laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Yes it is."

They sat in silence after that, Dean sipping his drink and occasionally glancing back at the door. Stiles didn't bother asking him who he was waiting for because the weariness from last night had finally caught up with him. All he wanted was sleep and maybe a large dinner or two.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Dean asked suddenly.

Stiles looked up. "Are you sure you _should _be driving?" he asked, watching the man take another sip. "I'll be fine, my jeep's still running."

Dean considered him for a second, then shook his head. Just call me when you get home, alright?"

"You sound like my father," Stiles told him, rolling his eyes as he dug into his pocket for his wallet.

"Would your father do this?"

There was the scrape of glass against marble as Dean slid his drink across to him. Stiles gave him a look of disbelief.

"Already a criminal remember?" shrugged Dean, "I'm driving you home, by the way. You can pick your jeep up later."

* * *

_Stiles isn't sure when it begins to rain but it is bucketing down now. It's getting dark as well and he really should be getting home but there's something tugging at him, begging-no, forcing- him to obey. He is in the woods by the Hale house, he recognizes this path. He'd been there earlier to see Laura._

_He crashes through the last line of trees and finds himself facing Derek. The man is barely standing, frame hunched, looking like it is taking all his effort just to stay upright. He is soaked through, his shirt is clinging to him and there are water droplets streaking down his face but he isn't wiping them away. There is a gash on Derek's forehead and another on his leg. His shirt is stained red. Why wasn't he healing?_

"_Derek!" Stiles hears himself cry and that is when he notices the other figure. _

_Dean has an arm clutching the collar of Derek's already torn jacket, holding the werewolf up. He looks just as surprised to see Stiles and Stiles is suddenly shaking. What the hell is going on? He doesn't understand until Dean shifts slightly so that the piece of metal he has up against Derek's temple is finally visible. _

_Well fuck._

"Dean!" Stiles yelled and all of a sudden he felt himself being shaken violently.

"Stiles, are you alright?" Dean looked across at him worriedly.

Stiles sat up, realizing with a start that he was still in the impala. Apparently they'd even reached his house and Dean had pulled up in front of it. "M'fine," he mumbled more to himself than Dean. "Just a- did I fall asleep in your car?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't want to wake you but you were thrashing and I mean I know a nightmare when I see one. Sam used to- Sam used to get them all the time after..." he shook his head, "do you want to talk about it?"

"No I think I- I just need a drink and I'll be fine" Stiles told him quickly. Dean still looked unconvinced but he let it go. Stiles sat up, he couldn't even bring himself to meet Dean's gaze because all he saw was the firm determination in the man's eyes from the dream and that gun against Derek's head. _They're all bad news, _he heard Scott's words from earlier on as they echoed through his mind. Maybe he was right.

* * *

**A/N: **Let me know what you think!


	3. Bad Dreams?

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long. Thank you all for reading :) This fic has been a laugh to write and you all make it a trillion times better.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**"Bad Dreams?"**

"It's not as bad as it looks," Stiles told them, turning away as he pretended to examine the peeling wallpaper of the Hale house.

"Stiles-" Laura started but Derek cut her off.

"Fuck, just _look _at me!" he growled. There was a thump when Laura smacked him but he ignored her. Stiles could feel him closing in from behind. He turned, if only to tell the guy to back the hell off. He'd come here to- well he didn't really know _why _he'd come here. Maybe to check if Derek was alive? To rid himself of that stupid image of the gun and the haunted look in Derek's eyes. To reassure himself that Dean wasn't a killer?

But he was.

And Stiles was... his friend? Fuck.

Derek and Laura stared at him. Their faces identical with the guilt written across both of them. It pissed him off because _no, _Stiles was supposed to be the guilty one.

"I'm looking!" he cried, trying to put every bit of exasperation into it. "And I'm perfectly fine! Dean-" he winced. _Why did you have to bring him up, Stiles? _"Dean and I fought him off."

If Derek wasn't pissed off before he sure was now. Stiles could only watch as his eyes widened, meeting Laura's worried glance with a hardened jaw. "Scott told me he was a hunter," he said at last.

In the grand scheme of things, being sold out by his best friend only stung a little. "He saved my life so I'm pretty sure I owe him," Stiles said slowly. It still came out too sharp and he hoped like hell he wasn't pushing Derek too far this time.

"You don't _owe _him _anything_." Derek looked around, hands shaking with fury before he calmed down enough to say, "you should stay away from him Stiles, he's still a hunter."

"You sound like Scott!" Stiles complained. He sank onto the couch and glared defiantly back at the alpha. "So what if he's a hunter? Allison is a hunter!"

Laura snorted and flopped down beside Stiles. "And there goes my relaxing evening," she muttered under her breath.

"That's different! She isn't a hunter yet!"

"Hunter, hunter-in-training, same thing! Dean is a decent guy!" _I hope,_ he added silently to himself.

"Why are you spending so much time with him anyway? _Why _do you _care_?"

"_Don't _start with me again, Derek!" Stiles cried but Derek wasn't having it.

"What if he finds out, Stiles? About us? What if he finds out about the pack!" he paused to let that sink in. Oh, so he was going to guilt-trip Stiles now? Brilliant. "Do you really think he'll just let the pack go because _you _asked him to?" He was hitting way too close to home and wow when did he become so good at screwing with Stiles' mind? What gave him the fucking right? "He'll think you're just as disgusting as the rest of us... your _best friend _is a werewolf Stiles!"

"Alright I'm going-" he wasn't capable of thinking through everything Derek had dumped on him. In fact fuck, he could almost hate the guy again. It was like they'd gone right back to when Derek first showed up at Beacon Hills again. He felt his pulse rising and he hated it. He could almost hate Derek for taking them there. He got up to leave.

"Laura!" Derek growled, cutting Stiles off with a glare that sent him crashing right back down into his seat. "Tell him!"

Laura sighed, peeking out from where she'd tried to smother herself with a cushion to keep out of sight. "That is so not fair!" Stiles protested but Derek ignored him, his gaze was fixed on his sister.

"Sorry little bro," Laura spoke up, not even wincing when Derek almost bared his teeth at her. "Stiles is right. He can see who he wants and... you were being an asshole by the way." She shrugged and buried herself under the ratty cushion again.

"Why are you always on his side!" Before Stiles knew what was happening, Derek had stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

"Did he just... storm out of his own house?" Stiles asked, finally drawing a breath and staring at the door.

"And then there were two," grinned Laura.

Stiles tried to muster a smile but he couldn't stop thinking about what Derek had said. Although the guy was being a dick, Stiles had to admit that he had a point. If Dean ever found out about the pack...

"_Stiles!" _ Suddenly there were arms, one on each shoulder, shaking him. Laura's brow was furrowed as she stared almost expectantly at him.

"What? Oh sorry I was just..." Stiles shook his head and tried again at a weak smile "I bet he forgot his keys."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Look, my brother can be a grade A dick sometimes. That stuff he said before... don't tell him I told you this but I think you should know, he's just jealous. No one willingly spends time with him, except well _you _and he's sort of... I don't know, I've always been good at reading him but he's just changed so much and he won't tell me why!" She sighed, pulling herself up so she could sit straight. She looked exhausted, if that was even possible for an undead werewolf. "What I'm trying to say is, don't dwell on it, he didn't mean it and... he cares about you more than he'll ever admit." She nodded, smiling in a way that reached her eyes. It wasn't as carefree as when they'd first met, Stiles noticed but it was still real. "Now tell me again how you took down a full-grown rogue werewolf with a hunky hunter."

* * *

"You broke our alpha and now you have to fix him." Erica watched him carefully, arms crossed as she waited for some kind of response. Stiles had no idea what she wanted: acknowledgement? Some kind of promise? 'Sorry I broke your alpha, don't worry I have some super glue in my bag, he'll be ready in a few'? Whatever it was, she was obviously not satisfied. She clucked her tongue but Boyd quickly spoke up.

"He's jumpier than usual. All he does is grunt and growl and with the full moon coming up... we just figured you'd know what happened..." he paused, inviting Stiles to step in.

"Just fucking tell us what you did, Stilinski," Jackson cut in before Stiles could even begin to formulate a response. He moved forward as though punctuating every word with a step. Beside Stiles, Scott's fists clenched and his jaw tightened but luckily he didn't lash out. It was only a matter of time though.

"Back off, Jackson," Scott gritted out.

"Oh Stilinski can't speak for himself now? What're you his lap dog?" Jackson sneered.

"Fuck off, Jackson," Stiles shot back for lack of a better response. "And what makes you think I had anything to do with whatever is up with Derek? In fact haven't we been over this? It's the anniversary of the fire."

"It's been a fortnight Stiles," Issac told him warily.

"Give it another fortnight then!" Stiles cried, waving his arms around so that he didn't actually try to punch a werewolf in the face. It didn't help that he really did know why Derek was pissed off because he couldn't tell them either way. They would probably just skin him alive. It was clear whose side the pack would choose and hell, even Scott would probably side with Derek and the two couldn't stand each other.

"Just talk to him or something," Issac sighed and Stiles noticed just how haggard the boy looked. It was like he hadn't slept in days! The pack needed to be strong for the full moon but the bags under their eyes, even the way the held themselves was just off. Stiles couldn't help picturing them trying to coax Derek out of whatever shell of bitterness he'd built around himself this time and he knew how hard that was. He'd been there. All of a sudden he felt sorry for the beta and with that came the guilt.

_They're just worried about him. Derek's ragtag band of misfits. Laura was wrong, _he thought, _I'm not the only one, Derek has his pack as well. _

"Fine," Stiles told them at last, "I'll try okay? I'll talk to him after lacrosse."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Jackson shouldered past Boyd and Erica so that he was inches away this time. His voice was a sharp whisper, low enough so that the other kids couldn't make out what they were talking about but still too loud when he stood by Stiles' ear. "We all know _why _he's pissed off and it isn't the anniversary so why don't you just _stop _hanging out with hunters before you get us all killed?" His hand was clenching Stiles' shoulder and his nails dug in painfully.

"I don't-"

"Cut the crap, Stilinski. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Jackson-" Scott warned but he was cut off by another yell.

"Hey," cried Dean from the parking lot and of fucking course he was here! Stiles didn't know if he wanted to punch him or hug him but he restrained from both. The guy had both the best and worst timing and Stiles didn't even know how that was possible.

They all turned to watch him approach. "Alright, Stiles?" he asked casually, ignoring the other five sets of eyes staring at him.

"Yeah," mumbled Stiles, "Scott and I were just leaving."

Dean nodded. "See you around," he said but he didn't move. Instead he just waited expectantly, glaring at the other teenagers until they'd all scrambled away with muttered excuses.

* * *

Dean was mad. Well actually, mad didn't even begin to cut it. He was _fuming _and he didn't even bother with the silent thing he did sometimes where he sulked alone or shot at trees. "You _told _her!" he growled, hands dangerously close to the gun slung across his waist.

"They'll hear us," Sam hissed back. He knew he shouldn't have broached the Allison topic until Dean was safely seated far from weapons or preferably never but once he'd started he had to tell his brother the whole thing.

"Yeah well good for them, maybe they'll come out and we can shoot the suckers," Dean shot back but he dropped his voice any way. "You might have screwed up the girl's life _forever _Sam!"

"_Dean!_" His brother kept marching through the trees and didn't even look back. Sam could barely see him in the little light his torch gave him so he hurried after him. "Her family are hunters, she already knew! She came to m-"

"I don't give a rat's ass if she came to you with a gun and a hex bag! We don't get involved!"

"She needs to know what's out there so she can make her own choice!" Sam knew that was too loud but he didn't care. Dean stopped dead and slowly turned on him.

"A choice, Sam? Really? She's _sixteen_!" He's thinking about Jo, Sam knew. He still got that haunted look in his eyes and yeah, sure there are thousands of reasons for it but Sam recognized this one.

"She deserves to know," he told Dean, trying to soften his voice just a little.

Dean muttered something under his breath. "Sure she'll regret...chased by hell hounds...funeral..." is all Sam is able to catch.

"What was I supposed to do Dean?" He shrugged, continuing along the path they were supposed to follow. He was pleased to see Dean follow, if not reluctantly at first.

"Anything! Except that! You know what it's like... once you _know _you can't... go back and there..." he paused for a second and Sam turned to watch him carefully. "There never really is a choice is there? You can't just _carry on _once you know?"

He asked it like a question. "There's always a choice, Dean." He waited but there was no reply so he carried on, "she has a boyfriend, a chance at _a life, _I wasn't about to let Chris Argent-"

"Screw what Argent says!" Dean yelled and Sam didn't bother chiding him. Screw what Argent says indeed.

"He's already training her," he said slowly, watching Dean's eyes widen.

"But-that _son_ of a-"

"She needed to know what she would be giving up," Sam shrugged. Dean's jaw hardened and it looked like he was fighting to keep himself in check. "We're on the same side here, Dean."

"You still shouldn't have just let her into our room like that!" Dean told him but there wasn't a bite to it. Sam allowed himself to smile.

They walked in silence to the Hale house after that. They'd come prepared with silver and iron, bullets of wolfsbane and rock salt as well just in case. All they needed was proof and that would be their reason to fire. They'd finally finished reading up about the Hale house fire and Kate Argent's arrest. The entire family was cloaked in some kind of strange Supernatural aura because there was no way all that bad luck could have naturally collected in one place. Werewolf or spirits or evil zombies, they were ready... Sam hoped. They were going to deal with the librarian the next day and then they could be out of this town for good.

"So do you want to take the front or the back?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Forget it, Sam, we're not splitting up." Sam scowled but Dean just shrugged. "Bobby told us not to trust the bullets."

"You said the wolfsbane grenades worked!"

"It was only temporary. We go together or we walk away right now." Sam hated it when he got like that but there was no point arguing when Dean made up his mind.

When they finally reached the small pathway Stiles had shown them a couple of weeks ago, they paused. The night appeared to be as silent as it ever would be in the middle of the woods. Insects and owls never took sunset as their cue to shut up. They carried on, treading softly on the forest floor until they had a clear view of what appeared to be the kitchen window. The light was on unlike last time and Derek Hale's dark Camaro was pulled up beside the house, just blocking the porch from view. There were voices coming from the house as well and they could just make out moving silhouettes. Sam couldn't tell what was being said but it must have been loud.

Dean gestured towards the dark car, mouthing 'cover me'. Sam nodded, adjusting his gun so he could get a better aim at the window just in case. He watched Dean creep up towards the house, bending low to keep in the shadows. When he was in position behind the car he looked back at Sam, pointing to the grass beside him. That was definitely code for 'get your ass over here now!'. He was just about to break cover as well when the front door of the house was flung wide open with a bang.

Shit.

"I'm right Laura! You _know _I'm right!" growled Derek. Sam could see only the top of the man's head from where he crouched but he was easy enough to recognise.

_Laura. _The name was familiar but one look at Dean's alarmed hand gestures told him there was a lot more to worry about.

"_Maybe, _but you could have at least-"

"He doesn't get it! It's for his own safety... and ours!"

"Well you could have explained it to him that way instead of yelling like a petulant _teenager_!" Laura stepped out of the house too. "They're _friends_, Derek... you know what those are right? Oh _don't _go sulking again! Come on!"

There was an exasperated sigh and the sound of footsteps walking hurriedly off the porch. If they kept going around the car, Dean would be wide open. Sam looked around but he had nothing except his gun and their duffel bag. Was it worth getting out a smoke grenade?

"Der, just listen to me..." The footsteps stopped. Maybe if Dean made a run back towards the trees and if he kept low, stayed out of the porch light, Derek and his companion might just pass it off as a wild animal or something.

It was a desperate plan but it was also their only one. It wasn't hard to get Dean's attention. He pointed frantically from the nearest line of trees to Dean and back again. Dean nodded.

"Talk to him. Apologize and talk- _don't _start yelling or you'll regret it."

"It doesn't matter," Derek said after a pause that left the place entirely too quiet. "He hates me again."

"And the sad part is that you actually believe it, little brother." Dean scrambled back, keeping to the shadows as he'd done before. He had almost made it back when he stumbled on branch half hidden in the tall grass. Derek stopped whatever he was mumbling and Sam held his breath. If he craned his neck, he could just make out the man's figure as he leaned against the porch, head raised and eyes closed like he was... smelling the air? No, he was imagining things, besides they were too far away to be certain of anything. At least Dean had made it under cover, he thought. "Probably just a squirrel or something," Laura said at last. Sam could almost hear Dean let out the breath he'd been holding.

Derek grunted some form of acknowledgement from the porch. _We need to get out of here_, Sam thought. They needed some time to process. Derek Hale had a sister... an older sister called Laura...

_Oh_, Sam hoped he hadn't said it out loud. At least Dean didn't look like he'd heard. The woman on the porch was Laura Hale. _The _Laura Hale who had supposedly been mauled by a mountain lion over a year ago- yet here she was.

"I won't be here forever, Derek," he heard her say. "You gotta let people in again. Give them a chance to care..."

"Oh come on Laura, if I wanted a lecture-"

"Just have a little _faith_, Der. You do deserve him you know? You-" There was a snort and a loud thump, like Derek had just kicked the house. "You're a good guy and I'm proud of you. Mom and Dad and the others would _all _be proud of you- I'm sure they are, alright? There! I said it! Now you can run off into the woods or shoot me or something but don't you ever forget that."

The silence that followed her speech was almost unbearable. Sam's legs were starting to cramp but he didn't dare move a muscle. Beside him Dean was doing the same. He tried to shift his focus back on the case. What did they know about Laura Hale? He assumed she was buried in the Beacon Hills cemetery –_both _halves of her. There was no use trying to run out in a blaze of bullets now because they'd still need to salt and burn her bones. _Derek lost his entire family and now we're about to take his sister, _again... Sam quickly chased that thought away.

"Well, I'm going to go watch some shitty TV if you're done being an asshole to your only friend," said Laura, her voice softer than before.

"I-" Derek cleared his throat, "I think I'll go for a run..."

There was a quiet chuckle. "I miss running with you."

The crunch of footsteps on gravel almost swallowed the gruff "me too."

Derek came into view, walking past the Camaro towards where they crouched in the trees. Sam tried to shrink down as much as his already burning hamstrings would let him. He swore under his breath, watching the grim determination spread across his brother's face.

He thought it was some kind of LED at first, or maybe a trick of the light (even though there really wasn't much light), nothing could have prepared him for the sudden realisation that it was Derek's eyes. The man had stopped dead a few yards away, face tilted up and for a second his scowl melted away into something almost peaceful. Then hair-no, _fur-_ started sprouting from his face and his nails began to lengthen into claws until his silhouette was no longer entirely human.

In retrospect, Sam really should have seen it coming. He moved too quickly though. One moment he was there, right beside Sam and the next he was up and charging. "Game's over, Hale," he yelled with his gun pointed straight at the werewolf's heart. Sam knew better than to waste his breath cursing Dean. Instead he scrambled to his feet so he could join his brother.

* * *

_Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day. Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day. Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day. Rain, rain, go away. Come again-_

It was a pathetically childish mantra but it was all he had and his head was full of it as he jogged, too tired to run, up to the Hale house. The rain didn't stop though. In fact Stiles could swear it poured harder. The raindrops that had lashed his face before had become a never-ending torrent that had easily soaked through his hoodie. The dampness crept up to coat his entire body. Running in wet jeans was something he was never doing again.

He tried not to think but that was impossible. He tried to imagine a stubborn, slightly aggravated Derek going off about crazy, stupid teenagers running through the woods alone but all he saw was the helpless Derek from his vision. He didn't even pause to think as he crashed out through the last line of trees. He probably looked like a maniac. Derek would-

Derek wouldn't do anything because he was struggling to even stand up straight. His face was twisted into a grimace but his eyes widened when he saw Stiles. He even managed to shake his head, mouthing for Stiles to 'back the fuck up'. In fact if it wasn't for the gun pressed up against the alpha's temple, Stiles could have laughed. _You know I never do what I'm told._

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you again for reading and your lovely reviews :) Let me know what you think!


	4. Of Monsters and Men (who hunt them)

**A/N: **Apologies for the wait. I won't bore you with excuses but thanks for sticking around. I don't know if we can put pictures on here yet but part of this chapter was based on the art by petite-madame who is amazing and therefore you should definitely check it out. If it doesn't work here I'll put a link on my author profile.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**"Of Monsters and Men (who hunt them)"**

"Fair's fair, Scott!"

"Again! And I get to run as fast as I like this time!" Scott cried, his hands were still in his pockets, where they had been all evening. Allison hated surprises but for Scott she could make an exception. She tried to hide her smile as she gave him a quick shove and took off. It didn't count as cheating when the guy was going to use his werewolf super powers, right?

The rain only made her run faster. The slippery grass proving a challenge that she was only too eager to face. The park wasn't far and she blocked everything else out, concentrating only on her ragged breathing and the squelch of her shoes on the soft ground. This is what the wolves must feel, she realised, the sheer joy of running because you could. Chasing and playing and _hunting_. Just like that, her conversation with Sam poured back into her mind, distracting her till she had to pull herself away.

She couldn't think about them now. She couldn't think about all those people Sam and Dean had saved from-from _monsters. _All those innocent people they _hadn't_ been able to save. She couldn't think about how half those monsters had probably been human once. How they hadn't chosen their life and how they were just as much victims as they were monsters. Sure, some of them were probably born from evil but every time she thought of those _monsters _as most people so eloquently put it, all she saw was Scott. She couldn't think about how Scott was one of them. She definitely couldn't think that because then she'd just lose whatever grip she had left on her mind.

She had to fight for it but eventually she was back, racing to the park with the rain beating down on her. She slowed down and let out a long breath, pulling at her damp shirt where it clung to her. The warmth from exertion was nice but it didn't help when she could barely see further than a few feet.

"Scott?" she asked out loud.

Suddenly there were hands around her waist, pulling her back and she lean into the touch. Of course the idiot was here before her! "You know I still won, right?" she told him half-heartedly, turning so she could face him.

"You always win," he shrugged, grinning cheekily at her and fishing in his pocket again. "Maybe we should find some shelter first?"

"Why?" Allison smiled back at him because damn it she couldn't be mad or scared or angry when he had that goofy Scott-look that she loved so much. "I love the rain."

Scott took her hand and she pulled him to the slide. It was wet but her clothes were soaked anyway and besides Scott didn't seem to mind. They sat at the top, Allison poised to slide but unmoving. She felt something cold and hard drop down into her shirt, resting against her chest. It was a pendent and she pulled it out, holding it close so she could make out the detailing on the small bow, complete with quiver and a delicate 'A' etched into it.

She let it slip, turning to pull Scott into a hug, despite the awkward angle. Scott shifted to get more comfortable and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for him to settle. She didn't have to say thank you, she just clung to him until they eventually leaned back too far and ended up in a tangle of limbs at the bottom of the slide. Damp and cold but utterly content.

* * *

His mind was racing from one useless action to the next as he tried not to catch any of their eyes. The noises in the trees that hadn't been there before had somehow filled the silence with chatter and screeches and then there was the constant thumping of his heart that just didn't know when to shut up. He couldn't breathe. His mind slipped back to all those panic attacks he'd hid from Scott and his Dad as he endured them alone in his room and somehow that brought him back.

"Dean," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. Surprisingly it worked and when he felt he could trust his legs not to collapse, he made his way forward. "Dean, you-he didn't do anything!"

"He's a werewolf Stiles," came Dean's deadpanned. The man shifted the gun where it rested against Derek's head. He watched Stiles carefully, apparently expecting some kind of response. "You knew," he said finally when none came. He let out a long breath, turning to Sam who just shrugged.

"But he didn't do anything!" Stiles cried again, arms flailing in an effort to make them _understand_.

Dean fixed him with a look that almost made him cower. The guy might as well have gift wrapped a wolfsbane grenade and aimed it at his head because wow, there was pure malice written across every inch of his face. Stiles bit at his lip, trying to swallow down the guilt that, _hey, _wasn't even fair for him to hold because he was just trying to save a life here!

"He's killed before. He fucking admitted as much!" Dean ground out. Sam watched him nervously, whispering something that Stiles couldn't quite catch. Dean turned his glare on his brother and Sam dropped back a step.

"No he-"

"_Stiles,"_ groaned Derek, and the rest of his retort died on his tongue. "Just fucking_ leave."_

Stiles pursed his lips and watched as Derek tried to glare. It came out as more a grimace of pain. Fuck.

"Tell me, Dean," he said, trying to get the hunter's attention away from Derek. "How many people have _you _killed? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you're innocent?"

"Stiles-"

"Save it, Derek," Stiles snapped half-heartedly, "you know I'm not going to leave. Not until he's let you go." He turned back to Dean with his most commanding glare, ignoring the way the hunter just rolled his eyes. "C'mon Dean_, _tell me you're innocent. _Tell me _that you're better than him." Dean just stared back and Stiles took it as a slight victory. "I know you're a lot of things Dean but you're _not _a liar. Just-c'mon you have to see-"

"He killed Argent's wife- Allison's mother!" growled Dean at last and suddenly Stiles was _really _mad.

"You can't be fucking-oh, you are? Allison's mother was a _hunter. _It was _self defense-_"

"What part of _he's a werewolf _do you not understand, Stiles?" Dean growled, lowering the gun so that Stiles could feel the full weight of his glare.

Stiles edged forward. "So that's what it is? It's because he isn't _human._" He took a second to look back at the trees he'd come from before letting out a long breath. "I guess I was wrong about you, Dean. I mean, I thought I was a good judge of character but- you are the biggest damn hypocrite. Honestly I can't believe that I ever- I mean I get that you think this is some kind of-I know your Mom was killed by a freaking demon of all things but even-"

"Dean!" Sam cautioned and Stiles saw that the guy had taken his gun off Derek and it was trained on him. Alright, so bringing up his family was probably not the smartest way to go but Stiles took pride in the fact that he rarely chose the smartest path.

"Oh wow and now you want to shoot me!" he cried instead of just shutting up. "Does it make you feel good? Do you shoot every teenager who has ever pissed you off or is it just me?" He still hadn't gotten used to the whole standing in front of a gun thing.

"I'm _not _going to shoot you, kid," sighed Dean, frustration finally easing from his voice. He sounded tired and if this was any other time and if the guy wasn't holding a gun, Stiles might have felt sorry for him. "But I am going to shoot the wolf so if you're done calling me names-"

"What if it was, Cas?" demanded Stiles finally.

It was like the words had drowned out everything else. Except the rain of course because it kept pouring as it had before, endlessly.

"I don't-" began Dean but he stopped.

Stiles took that as an invitation. "Look, I'm sorry I brought up your Mom before but Sam told me what happened and-" Dean visibly bristled, shooting his brother a glare, "I get it, man. It's an avenging thing I mean if I could kill cancer I would do it. I would spend every day of the rest of my life doing it. And I get that this is your job. I get that it's what you do, I mean, c'mon, you saved my life the other day, remember? I should be grateful - and I am! The thing is _Derek _saved my life as well. He's done more for this town than any of the Argents have- more than any hunter could ever do!" he had to pause for a quick breath before carrying on-before the fact that all their eyes were plastered on him finally sunk in. "You and Derek, you're not that different! Both of you just want to keep everyone here, everyone you love, safe. Sure, Derek hates hunters but you can't blame him! The hunters murdered his entire family!" he glanced at Derek who despite intense pain was shooting him a look that could probably set fire to the entire forest...hell the entire planet even. _Fuck. _Hopefully the guy would forgive him (what with Stiles being in the middle of saving his life and all). "Sorry, Derek but he has to know! Look, Dean, I know Cas isn't human, alright? I'm not stupid. I also-"

"Cas is _different,_" muttered Dean, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"He's your friend, isn't he?" asked Stiles, softening his voice a little. "So you can't honestly believe that they're _all _evil. I mean sure, I get that it's your job to hunt monsters but really, _how _do you decide which is the monster? Derek is my friend and he hasn't hurt anyone Dean, he isn't a-"

"He's bitten people-_kids-_ he told us about his pack. They could have had normal lives but he dragged them into this and now we have to kill them as well."

"You don't have to kill _anybody_! Dean, please just put the gun away so we can talk!" Stiles was close to begging. The gun had somehow just crept back up to its resting place by Derek's temple.

"Leave it be, Stiles," Derek groaned again. "Just _leave _you idiot or I swear-"

"Dude, you're really in no place to be making threats," sighed Stiles.

"Dean, we should head back. We can deal with the ghost tomorrow and the rogue. Argent can deal with the pack," said Sam quietly. Stiles could have kissed him.

Dean was just shaking his head though and muttering to himself like a mad man. A mad man with a gun. It was like Matt all over again except this time with Derek on the wrong end of the gun. He moved closer still, an idea beginning to form. If he could get close enough, just close enough to grab something from the bag that lay off to the side or maybe knock the gun out of Dean's hand. Yeah okay that was ridiculous but he was sure he would think of something.

He took one last step before it all went to hell. Derek being Derek lunged at him, pushing him out of the way in a flash of black and red in the same instant that Dean's gun went off with a bang. His hand went limp and Stiles was sure he'd somehow been thrown across the clearing. He could still hear echoes of the gun ringing in his ears.

"Stiles!" Someone yelled but he wasn't quite sure who or even if he was imagining it.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Dean!"

"He was going to attack!"

"Stiles!"

"Kid are you alright?"

"What the hell just happened?" Stiles gasped, pulling his good hand up to examine it. It was soaked in blood. "_Fuck _am I bleeding? Did you- you _shot _me! What the fuck dude?"

The pain hit him like a truck after that. It was like a fire clawing up his arm, eating his shoulder. Derek was gripping his arm tight and was wrapping the remnants of his shirt around the arm-_his _arm-the one that had _just been shot. _"Stiles you idiot, just stay still."

"Well I don't have much of a choice now do I? No thanks to Mr. Big-Shot hunter over there!" Stiles yelped as the cloth tightened around his arm. "Shit be _careful_! He shot me with an actual _gun_!"

"Shut. Up. Stiles," growled Derek. "For once in your life," he muttered under his breath.

"We have to get him to a hospital," said Sam from somewhere behind them.

"Good idea, Sam," cried Dean, "shouldn't be too hard since we're in the middle of the woods!"

"Oi, no hospitals! Are you crazy or just stupid! Do you _want _to explain to the Sheriff why you just shot his son? OW- _fuck _Derek, really?" Stiles sucked in air through his teeth and took a deep breath. They definitely didn't show the whole getting shot thing right in the movies. "Besides he'd probably have a heart attack just-take me to Deaton. He's fixed Scott up before."

Derek nodded or at least Stiles thought he did but the world was getting a bit topsy turvy and he didn't really know what was happening.

"I could fix him up-"

"No." growled Derek, wrapping Stiles' good hand around himself. Stiles felt himself being pulled to his feet and felt just a little bit sorry when he almost collapsed, dragging Derek down with him.

"Fine, we go to Deaton's then," grumbled Dean.

"Who is Deaton?" Sam cut in before his brother could make any more comments.

"The vet," said Derek flatly.

"The vet? Are you-he's not an animal!"

"Deaton knows what he's doing," muttered Derek as he braced himself for a second go at getting Stiles to the car. There was another arm around Stiles as well this time, carefully avoiding the wounded arm. Dean's face was a mask but he broke for just a second as he winced apologetically at Stiles.

"No offense man but I think you need more-ow- target practice-owowowow- "

* * *

"This sucks," declared Stiles.

"I know."

"I don't need a babysitter!"

"I know."

"Are you sure you can't work some ghosty static mumbo jumbo to get the TV running?"

"I know."

Stiles leaned over and prodded her. "Oi, you can't fall asleep on me!" Laura gave him a long suffering sigh which he pointedly ignored. "We should start our own little club and we can have meetings every time Derek ditches us to hang with his werewolf buddies."

"At least you get to leave this house in a couple of hours," Laura pointed out glumly. "I'm stuck here, remember?"

Stiles shifted in the pile of pillows and cushions Derek had dumped on him before he had left. He winced when pain shot up his tender shoulder. "Hey, he's working on it. Give it some time."

Laura opened her mouth like she was going to say something but then shut it, her mouth set in a tight line. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Spit it out."

"That's the thing Stiles! Derek _shouldn't_ be working on it! He should be out there moving on! He should be partying in some shabby club in New York or getting a degree so that he can get a job! He should be out there doing normal things!"

"Laura..."

"I don't know, at first I thought I was back here for a reason. I thought I could make up for the time that we had lost or something but I'm not so sure anymore."

There was a pause that Stiles didn't know how to fill. He reached over instead, ignoring the stabs of protest from his shoulder as he wrapped his good arm around Laura. She leaned in lightly and they just sat there. Stiles had managed to count the number of swirls on the wall's somewhat peeling wallpaper when Laura finally spoke up again. "Sometimes I just think to hell with it, I should just die again."

Stiles tried his best to hide the sharp intake of breath. "He'd be devastated you know," he said instead.

"He'd move on," Laura didn't miss a beat. "He did it the first time."

"You can't be-"

"He's tired, Stiles. I see it in his eyes. I'm stressing him out."

Stiles snorted. "Are you even listening to yourself? You don't think losing his sister _again, _won't stress him out even more? You're just going to leave him, is that it?"

"_Tact_," muttered Laura into a cushion and the pain that crossed her face for a split second was enough to make Stiles want to swallow his words. "It's not like I _meant _to leave him the first time! I didn't _want _to die!"

"Yeah-yeah okay, sorry. But-fine, let's just say Derek was okay with you offing yourself. Would it even be possible? I mean how do you kill a-a dead thing?"

Laura smiled sadly at that. "Those hunters know a way."

"You-what-you _asked _them?"

"Well, just before they tried to torture my little brother and shot you, we had a pleasant little conversation." Stiles' dry humour had definitely rubbed off on her. "They told me they would-don't you _dare _repeat this to Derek or I will skin you with my undead hands- they told me that they would...they told me there was a way. Of course that was before they shot me with salt bullets that sent me right back into the house."

"Wait you were watching us from the house the whole time?"

"From the upstairs window, but Stiles-"

"So I guess the creeper gene runs in the family then?"

Change the topic. _Always _change the topic if you can't run or it would be weird to drop cover and hold. That was Stiles' rule when it came to avoiding awkward conversations. Of course Laura saw right through it.

"Stiles you have to talk to him."

No. "About what?"

"You have to tell him to let go. Tell him that he can't keep wasting his life away like this. I know you'll be there to help him move on. You're like... family and trust me I wouldn't even try to leave if I wasn't sure he had that again."

"Laura that is complete-"

"Just _please,_ try? For me?"

* * *

Sam rummaged through his bag one last time. He was pretty sure he had everything. There really wasn't much to pack anyway. Dean was slumped across the tiny sofa, staring daggers into the wall. A pile of his clothes were scattered on his bed and rolling his eyes, Sam reached for his brother's duffel, shoving them in.

They hadn't really spoken since they'd left the vets. "I fucked this one up bad," Dean had said and that was that. It's not like they needed to talk it through anyway. Dean had been an asshole, Stiles had been shot and they had long since over stayed their welcome. And that was why they had this unspoken agreement to leave.

It was funny how even after countless months they were still not used to Cas just appearing. Sam still got a little jolt every time, grinding his feet into the carpet to keep from jumping.

"What are you doing?" Castiel's voice seemed to boom in the silence. It was his commanding voice, the one that he rarely used on them.

"What does it look like we're doing?" Dean sat up, tearing his eyes off the wall and fixing them on Cas. "We're leaving."

Cas raised an eyebrow and looked to Sam for an answer. "There's nothing here for us to do," Sam explained. "The Argents can take care of it. Bobby has another case for us to look into."

"Is this because of what happened with the alpha? You have to remember that her is not your primary concern."

"Cas-" began Sam but Dean cut him off.

"You knew, didn't you? You _led _us here. You already knew Derek was a wolf, you knew about his pack and his sister-" Dean rounded on Cas, face twisted with fury. To his credit, Cas held his own well. His face was a mask as he took in the accusations and made no move to deny them. "Of course you did. You knew this whole time. _Why_ did you bring us here, Cas?" Dean was breathing heavily but apparently he wasn't finished. "You know what? I don't care because I've had enough of being a pawn in your bullshit angel games. We're leaving. _Now_."

"Dean, just listen-" Cas tried but Dean had already reached for his bag.

"Lock up, Sam," he said gruffly, throwing a set of keys at him. Sam caught it easily, only too ready to let Dean walk out so that he could ask Cas what the hell was going on. Cas had other ideas though and he was across the room in an instant.

He caught Dean's arm as he was reaching for the door and pulled it back roughly so Dean was facing him. "Your job here isn't finished, Dean. There is still work to be done in this town," he paused. "There is still the matter of the boy to take care of."

Dean shook the hand off. "I don't care."

"Yes you do," Cas told him. "You care about him and so you will stay to help him."

"We're talking about Stiles, right?" asked Sam, eyeing the two warily. The last thing he needed was for this to come to blows.

Cas looked over at him and nodded. "They'll come for him like they came for you, Sam- the demons _and _the angels- he is to become another weapon in our war."

* * *

**A/N: **Sort of just getting back into the writing groove so bear with me! The story is definitely not done though so yeah, also sorry for the mini-cliffhanger and thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, they literally inspired me to get my ass back in gear. Hope you are enjoying the new season! xx


	5. Done

**A/N: **So I kept going. Thank you for all the love you have been sending this way! Hope you guys aren't too damaged from the last episode :)

* * *

**Chapter 5: 'Done' or 'Difficult conversations and wild tempers'**

Sundays were supposed to be for sleep-ins or eating till he was bored and then playing video games till he was hungry, preferably with Scott because it was always better with Scott. The Sunday after a rough full moon apparently was meant to be spent running around the woods with Scott, trying to track down stray betas before they found themselves in more trouble, namely before the hunters realised what had happened.

According to Derek the pack hadn't taken well to the shift. Even Issac who had found his anchor early on and had since helped keep the others in line hadn't been able to stay in control. They were also more violent, taking their frustration out on their alpha before scampering off into the woods. Derek had called Scott and the two had spent the night patrolling the area between the town and the woods in case they strayed too close to the surrounding houses.

"I'm sure it's this way," Scott called, _again,_ and Stiles was done. Actually he was well past done. He had been done at 5.30am when he was so rudely awakened by his mud-spattered, half naked best friend who had pretty much snatched him out of bed.

"I give up, Scott. Let them drag their own leafy werewolf asses back to civilization."

"They were hurt pretty badly dude."

"They're werewolves! They can heal! Do you know who can't heal? Me when I collapse from exhaustion or forest poisoning."

"Stiles!"

Stiles sighed. "I know."

A wound from and alpha didn't heal as quickly even for werewolves. Derek had said he'd swiped Isaac's rib pretty badly during the fight along with Boyd's leg. Worry had clearly been etched on his face when he had sent them out.

Scott was silent, turning around as he'd done every few minutes since they'd set off. "We're close, I can-"

There was a groan from their right and Scott immediately loped off. "Yeah, y'know if I had superhuman running powers I'd use them to rescue werewolves in need too buddy!" Stiles muttered more to the ground than to Scott as he followed the trail of freshly trampled leaves and broken twigs.

"Can you move?" he found Scott asking Issac who was sprawled on the ground, clothes in tatters. The wound was open, so incredibly open, and Stiles could see the crusted blood and the slight purpleness of the gouges across the boy's chest. It looked bad.

Issac let out another groan and Scott immediately put his hand near the torn flesh. Dark veins appeared in that eerie way that meant he was taking Isaac's pain. Even as he watched, Issac sucked in air through his teeth before releasing it in a soft sigh, finally opening his eyes and wincing as he tried to uncurl himself.

"Hey, hey, relax," Scott murmured, looking over to Stiles. "Call Derek, tell him we found Issac. We might need his help."

"Derek?" Issac managed to grit out. "We-attacked-"

"Derek is fine. He's just looking for the others. He'll be here soon."

As it turned out, Derek hadn't actually been too far away. He probably heard Stiles' yell of frustration when he'd realised that for all their careful planning they'd forgotten that there wouldn't be a signal in the middle of the goddamn woods. Together (meaning Scott and Derek did the brunt of the carrying while Stiles worked on not complaining out loud) they managed to get Issac back to Deaton's where Boyd had already been taken and where Erica and Jackson had collapsed into a disturbed slumber.

"We're sorry," Issac whispered to Derek as they were about to leave him in the vet's care. The alpha looked taken aback and Stiles was sure there was guilt mixed in with the sorrow as well.

"No, it's not your fault. I should've known. I'm sorry I haven't been-" but Issac had already shut his eyes. Stiles put his good arm around Derek's shoulders which were slumped with exhaustion and gently drew him out of the room. Derek didn't protest, not even when Stiles made them both a cup of cocoa and insisted Derek get some rest. ("I swear to god Derek if you do not go to sleep right now I will handcuff you to that bed.")

* * *

It had been a whole four days since the incident in the woods and Stiles' arm still hurt like a bitch when he moved it. It had been a whole four days since he'd seen the Winchesters and he had thought that perhaps they had cut their losses and left town. Of course he was wrong.

He was walking up his own driveway, mind still replaying the sound of Derek's soft breathing as he finally gave in and fell asleep and the way he looked so open without the perpetual frown that guarded him, oh and his eyelashes so dark against his- okay, Stiles has officially hit creeper territory. Anyway, the point is, he was just _not _in the mood for anything but his own bed where he could bury his face and punch a pillow or two for good measure.

"Stiles!" called the now familiar voice of Sam Winchester. "Stiles wait!"

"How the hell did you find out where I live?"

"It's a small town, kid" shrugged Dean who was following his brother. He looked guiltily at the sling Stiles had his arm in. "How're you doing?"

"Splendid no thanks to you," Stiles told him. He was just a little bit sorry when Dean winced.  
"Look, I'd love to stay and chat but Dad'll be home soon and I haven't made lunch yet."

He turned to leave only to find Castiel sitting on his doorstep. "Hello, Stiles," said the man with a small smile.

"Look," said Sam softly "I understand this might be too soon for you but we have some questions and we really need answers. If you could just hear us out-"

Stiles exploded. "You can't just show up at my house after you shoot me and expect me to just- I don't know- make you a cup of tea. Why the hell would I know the answers to your questions anyway?"

"Because you bloody lied to us about the werewolves the first time and then got yourself shot is why!" cried Dean.

"So it's my fault that you shot me?"

"That isn't what I-"

"We just want to help you, Stiles," Sam cut him off. "This might sound strange but we just want to know if you have been feeling different or-" He looked to Cas who stood up and walked slowly over to Stiles.

"Have you acquired any new abilities? Can you speak new languages or perhaps hear voices in your head that you know do not belong to you?" He had a slight frown as though concentrating hard on reading Stiles's mind or something and wow, Stiles would not be surprised if he did turn out to be a mind reader or something. It would explain the way he always seemed to know more than he was letting on.

Still, Stiles couldn't help laughing just a little. "Dude, are you-" he turned to Sam who apparently was the sanest of three. "Is he serious?" Sam just nodded. "Okay well no, but I will definitely give you a call if I can suddenly speak fluent Russian or shoot lasers from my eyes or something." He turned to leave.

"This isn't a joke, Stiles," said Dean before Stiles could push past Cas.

"Do you guys even know how ridiculous you sound? Allison's Dad took care of the Omega last night. He has a treaty with the pack. What are you even doing here?"

"We're not interested in them," said Cas in a voice that made him shiver. "I am Castiel and I am an Angel. I was sent here to find you-"

"But I'm not a bloody werewolf!" cried Stiles. "I'm not a ghost, I'm pretty sure I'm not a zombie and yeah I really wanted to be Batman but guess what? I'm not!"

"Stiles-" started Sam but he was cut off by another yell, or well it was more of a growl really.

"Stiles!" growled Derek and all of a sudden there was a werewolf by his side. Why the guy couldn't even take the afternoon off was beyond him. "What are you doing here?" he was staring from the hunters to Cas and back. "I thought I made it clear before. You've caused enough trouble here already. Leave."

"Derek," Stiles tried to calm him but it didn't work.

"We're trying to help him you thick son of a bitch but I don't suppose you'd understand that since no thanks to you he spends more time with werewolves than actual humans."

Stiles considered just leaving but Derek might rip Dean's throat out so that might be a no-go. _Shit _was that a Taser in Dean's hand?

"Derek!" he yelled louder this time but once again he was ignored. He could just let them rip themselves to pieces. He would be there to clean them up but at least he could say 'I told you so'. Then there was his bloody conscience that told him he had to do something. He felt a surge of heat welling up in his finger tips. It moved all the way up his arm till he couldn't even feel the numb ache where he had been shot. If this was adrenaline he really needed more of it.

Dean and Derek were a buzz of moving fists, their weapons (gun, teeth and claws) were discarded and they were just lashing out and shoving at each other while Sam tried to pull his brother away. Castiel just looked bored. Actually, he _was_ looking bored until he caught sight of Stiles and then he had this strange look of... wonder? Puzzlement? Stiles didn't know what it was but it was weird. Not that he was dwelling on it because he was more busy trying to control what was now more of a roaring flame within him than the soft buzz it had been a second ago.

He felt real power now, sort of like he had with Deaton when he'd used the mountain ash. He had the power to step between the two men, he was sure of it. He could do this. He took a step and then another. He was so close to grabbing Derek by the back of his shirt when he heard someone yell.

"Stiles!" cried the Sheriff and then, "Derek!"

Stiles stopped dead, the heat draining away in an instant. Derek jerked back from where he had Dean in a headlock and the hunter's fist managed to connect with his jaw.

"Stiles, inside. Now," his Dad told him and wow was Stiles glad to just obey. "You two are coming with me," he heard the Sheriff continue in a strained voice that meant he was fighting to keep his cool.

Stiles just hoped he wouldn't be grounded for longer than a few months for this. He hated Sundays.

* * *

Dean punched the ratty pillow again. Somehow it didn't help.

The werewolf was staring at him from the opposite cell, eyes grey now that he wasn't wolfed out. He hated small town jails. It was bad enough having to spend the night here without having to endure that glare every time he looked up.

"You should make peace with him, Dean," Cas had told him in the few minutes the alpha was out of earshot. "We may need his help." Dean snorted. Derek would quite possibly rip him to pieces before that happened. He'd told the angel as much but Cas had just given him that _look_ which meant he knew more than he was letting on. "If we are to help Stiles we must work with him. He'll do it for Stiles."

"So we're gonna be stuck here a while..." Dean said at last. Derek didn't move. "We might as well make the most of it." There was a snort from the other cell. "I mean we could give the pillow fights and heartfelt confessions a miss but you could tell me how one kid can find so much trouble." Derek didn't even blink. So the wolf man didn't have a sense of humour. Well at least Sam and Cas couldn't nag because at least he'd tried. What the hell did Stiles even see in this guy anyway? He was an asshole.

"I didn't ask him to get mixed up in all this," came a voice, gruff from half a day spent in silence.

"Oh, he speaks!" said Dean to hide his surprise.

Derek rolled his eyes. "He has this way of just ending up right in the middle of it. Even when he isn't _looking _for trouble he gets caught up in it."

"Like that night with the omega?" Derek nodded. "You'd think having a pack of werewolves to look after his ass would be enough." There was a pause and Derek slowly retreated to his bed, slumping down with a small thud. He didn't turn away though. Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair to distract himself from what he had to say. "Look, I'm ah..sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to shoot him." _You're doing this for Stiles, _he reminded himself as he watched the werewolf take it in. "I understand he was only trying to protect you. We-the only reason we're still here is to help him."

"There's nothing wrong with him!" There was a hint of a threat in his words. Dean stared at the bars between them. He was pretty sure the werewolf could break them if he really wanted to and without a gun, Dean didn't like his chances.

"Look, let's just say we've had a tip-off from a close friend and we just want to be sure." Derek was quiet again. There were no threats so Dean figured it was a start. For a second he considered just leaving it there while things were good. _Screw it, _he wasn't one for playing it safe anyway. "So you're sister..." And sure enough Derek's nostrils flared and his entire body became rigid, the muscles in his arms flexing under his shirt. "Just curious man," he said quickly, holding his hands up. If he died in this cell tonight he was blaming Sam and Cas for making him do this. Or maybe it was all just down to his lack of self preservation. "I heard she died a couple of years ago... so what kind of voodoo witchy stuff did you have to do to get her back?"

Derek looked away and again Dean though he was just going to ignore the question. Of course he was wrong. "I didn't do anything."

"You sure? Because from experience, spirits don't just appear out of nowhere, two years after they've died. Besides, I didn't even know werewolves could become spirits."

"She's here now and she's staying."

"Dude, she could've crawled out of hell for all you know! What does she want? What is she even doing here?"

"She's my _sister_."

The rest of that thought was left unsaid but it didn't matter because Dean knew what he meant and he was sure Derek knew that he knew. So Derek didn't want to question the reappearance of sister, the little voice in Dean's head was only too happy to point out that he'd sold his soul to bring Sam back. "Fair enough," he muttered to the wall.

According to the article they'd dug up, Derek's sister had died in some kind of animal attack. The rest of his family he'd lost at 16 in a house fire. The somewhat twisted irony wasn't lost on Dean. Unlike himself, Derek had even moved on from it apparently. He'd left town, only returning after his sister's death. Maybe the werewolf was stronger than he'd given him credit for. Then again, there was no telling if he'd have the same restraint if he'd been faced with the demon at the crossroads. Dean doubted any man, even Derek Hale was that strong.

"Look, what happened to your family-" Derek let out a long-suffering sigh but Dean ignored him. "It was pretty shitty I mean not all of them were even werewolves, were they?" _Woah, _that came out wrong. Derek looked ready to tear the metal bars out with his eyes alone. "Not that it would have been any less shitty if they were all werewolves. It's just-" How the hell are you supposed to say well done for not wolfing out and ripping to pieces the assholes who did that to your family? Well done for not being, well, for not being John Winchester. Okay touchy subject. Thinking about John Winchester wasn't possible until he's downed enough booze to get well past the light buzz and into the emotionally numb territory. "It's just that when out Mom died... we spent the rest of our lives hunting but you..."

"Laura wouldn't let me at them."

"Oh." Dean was beginning to like Laura just a little bit even if she was potentially some kind of werewolf/spirit hybrid. Plus she was hot. Right, that wouldn't go down well with her little wolf bro. Werewolf chicks were Sam's forte anyway.

Derek seemed to think that the conversation was over then because he was back to staring a hole into the wall, leaving Dean to try and get somewhat comfortable on the rock hard slab beacon Hills prison called a bed. He couldn't be certain from this far away but he was pretty sure that the pure malice he'd seen in Derek's eyes that morning had subsided some (or maybe that was just because they weren't alpha red anymore).

"Look man, we just gotta make sure he's- everything's- okay and then we'll be out of your town for good, alright?" He wasn't exactly expecting an answer so he took the gruff half cough and slight nod as a victory.

* * *

How long did it take to legally get a guy out of jail? Deaton had been in there for at least an hour! Stiles' wouldn't have been surprised if the vet was organising some kind of mass jail break. He punched the steering wheel again, cursing when the jeep let out a honk. Fumbling for his phone he checked the time instead.

Okay, so it had been twenty minutes. That was still a long time to wait. Stiles didn't do _waiting _because waiting meant thinking. And thinking was bad when there were horrible things to think about.

Finally he spotted a couple of figures making their way around the corner. When they were close enough that Stiles could be sure it was Derek and Deaton, he honked again. They didn't speed up. _Typical. _

"Took you long enough!" he said once they'd piled in.

"There was a lot of paper work," Deaton told him. Stiles snorted. It hadn't even been a proper arrest. He'd managed to convince the Sheriff to let the two off with a warning (and he'd promised to stay away from them as well but what his Dad didn't know couldn't hurt him, right?). "And," added the vet, looking pointedly at him, "the Sheriff was not impressed." Stiles got the feeling that Deaton either thought all of this was his doing or that this was some kind of vital information that Stiles should not forget. Then again, most of Deaton's words gave him that impression.

"Yeah, I'm sure Derek will survive," he replied instead, sneaking a glance at the werewolf in the passenger seat. "Me on the other hand, I'm grounded till Christmas... of 2050!" Deaton humoured him with a small chuckle. "So Derek," Stiles continued, "what did you and Dean get up to last night?" Derek was visibly squirming. Stiles pretended to check the side mirror to hide his smirk. He had to remember to tell Laura. It would keep her entertained. "Did you braid each other's hair and swap stories in the dark?"

"What Stiles means," Deaton started helpfully from the back, "is did you find out why they are still here now that the omega has been taken care of."

"No."

"Well, did he mention my supposed superpowers?" asked Stiles, "because we were just going through some possibilities and-"

"No."

"Then what the hell were you doing all night because you were supposed to be doing something!"

"Nothing! We just-nothing!"

He was back to glaring at the road and they remained in silence until Stiles pulled up by the animal clinic. "I'd advise you to be on the lookout for the symptoms we discussed earlier," Deaton told Stiles when he got out.

Stiles nodded and waved. "Thanks again Alan!" He took lack of protest at the use of his first name as a small victory. "So Laura told me that if you were gonna be a mopey sour puss I was to leave you right where I found you." Derek shifted his glare to Stiles. "Hey, her words, not mine. She doesn't want to deal with your shit today and she can be freaking terrifying when she wants to be!"

"Take me home."

"Say please."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Take me home, Stiles."

"Well that's good enough for me," Stiles forced a smile and started the jeep up again. Laura had also told him that he wasn't allowed to bring Derek home until they had had _the talk._ With Deaton gone this was his chance. Derek just looked so _tired _though. If it hadn't been easy to slip in a 'hey, by the way you're undead sis wants to die again for real this time' during a conversation before, it was just getting exponentially more difficult the longer he waited.

_You can do this. Come on, Stiles, you've faced off with alpha werewolves, a giant lizard and Gerard Argent, you can do this. _

"You told Laura you were having visions," said Derek suddenly. It wasn't really a question and if he wasn't the only one in the car he'd have just assumed Derek was talking to someone else.

Still, silently thanking him for this distraction, he asked: "I did?"

"The night you first met Laura, you said you had some sort of vision. You said you were just here to make sure or something. It was two in the morning and I thought it was just- I didn't think much of it and you never really brought it up again..." Derek turned away from the window and Stiles could feel him watching. He had to work to hide the smile that was threatening to show. Derek actually remembered and that brought with it a strange wave of affection. What the hell was even wrong with him? He forced it back down. Driving while flustered was a bad idea.

"I- yeah, I might have mentioned it, yes," he stammered instead.

Derek's gaze just became even more intense if that was even possible and Stiles couldn't help but squirm under it.

"What aren't you telling me, Stiles?"

"Well first of all, that is a stupid question because how is that even supposed to make me tell you anything? That's like when you hear a noise at night and you call out 'who's there?' or something." Derek looked confused. "The axe murderer hiding in your closet is _not _going to answer you!" Derek had that 'are you even speaking English' face, complete with furrowed brow so Stiles had to spell it out for him. "That isn't even vaguely threatening dude! That's not going to make me say anything. Try again."

Derek looked thrown and just a little bit _hurt. _Stiles almost missed the next turn. Okay, for the love of all things holy, what the hell did he do this time?

"I'm not making you tell me anything," Derek said evenly. "I'm just asking."

"Oh, okay then... I guess I'm uh telling you that I had another vision dream thing, which was why I showed up at your house when I did that night Sam and Dean were you know-" he held an imaginary gun to his forehead. "yeah, and before you ask I've told Deaton because apparently superpower counselling is something he does and we're working to figure it all out."

It was Derek's turn to just '_Oh', e_xcept he did it silently and Stiles let him be.

"Have you told the hunters?"

"No."

"Do you think we should?"

"I-I don't know. I don't even know if there is anything to tell. I've looked in all the usual places and all I've come up with so far is that I'm either a witch or Alice Cullen. I've been waiting for my Hogwarts letter since I was eleven so I'm pretty sure we can rule out the first one." Derek didn't even twitch. "Hey, we'll figure something out. We always do. Besides whatever it is has been sort of helpful so it can't be all bad, right?"

Derek nodded before letting out a long sigh. He shifted in the seat and Stiles could hear him fumbling with the lever to tilt the seat back. When Stiles glanced at him again a couple of minutes later he'd already shut his eyes, chest rising and falling evenly.

Awesome. Now he was alone with his thoughts again. He was about to pull into the Hale's driveway, desperately thinking up excuses to appease Laura because he couldn't just dump Derek and run, when the werewolf finally stirred.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Stiles?" he asked.

"Uh no, confession time is over."

"It's just that your heart is beating double time and-" Derek sat up, rubbing his eyes, "that usually happens right before one of your speeches."

"I-" he wasn't sure if Laura still had superhuman hearing. She probably did. They could be in hearing range right now. This was the perfect opportunity and if he missed it he was so, so screwed. "Actually, yeah. There is something I've been uh meaning to talk to you about."

Derek watched him, expression strangely soft. I hate you Laura, he thought. Perhaps he was a telepath now and she could feel the full extent of his rage. He hoped so.

"How are things coming along, you know, with Laura. Are you any closer to figuring out how to let her leave the house?"

"I've had other things on my mind," Derek told him warily. Apparently this conversation was not going where he'd expected it to go and so defence was his default.

"Yeah, yeah of course it's just that, well she's getting...bored, _antsy... _it's not really a proper life you know being trapped at home all day, not being able to help and all. I don't blame her I mean the waiting is probably doing her head in."

"What're you trying to say?"

"I'm just saying, have you considered letting her...go..." There was a long pause where Stiles was too afraid to look at Derek. Say _something_, come on, _please just say something,_ he thought but that was all he dared to do.

"What do you mean, Stiles?" asked Derek at last. Stiles let out his breath and brought himself to look at him. There really wasn't much to see. Derek had that guarded look that betrayed nothing.

"Let her _go, _you know, _leave_, _move on_...to the...next part of her existence...again"

Derek was furious and the worst part was that he didn't even say anything. He didn't yell or snarl or growl. He didn't even slam his fist through the window or Stiles' face through the steering wheel or anything. He just sat there and Stiles could see him shaking.

He had this urge to put his hand there, to hold Derek's shoulders till they stopped their incessant rocking, but that might break Derek completely. Maybe. He wasn't quite sure. This was a new kind of Derek or a whole new level of the old Derek. Congratufuckinglations you just unlocked hurt-Derek level nine hundred and eight six by being a grade A asshole. Was there even a 'decent' way to suggest what he'd just suggested? There probably was. Anyway, he didn't know what to do so he waited it out.

Finally Derek moved. He reached for the seat belt strapping him in and with a pop he was free. He opened the door slowly and when he got out he didn't close it immediately, instead he waited. If didn't know better Stiles might even have though that the guy was doing it on purpose because dammit he knew exactly how much Stiles hated waiting.

"I need her, Stiles," came a small voice that couldn't have been Derek but at the same time definitely was.

The slam when the door swung shut seemed final. It should have been final. Except Stiles wasn't having it.

He got out, not bothering with his own door as he raced to catch up with Derek. "Hey," he called out, "_Hey!_" The man turned around with that blank look that hid his thoughts completely. In retrospect, Stiles really should have thought this through. "I get that this is sudden and all but you do _not _get to guilt trip me. That is just all kinds of unfair. Trust me I did notvolunteer to do this. I'm doing it as a favour for _Laura _because shehates it here. She doesn't _belong _here and guess what? She needs _you _to let her go because keeping her around, that is just selfish, dude, and you're better than that. That girl in there is _not _your sister anymore. She can't be and she also _can't _be an excuse to start neglecting the pack _you _built. Boyd, Erica, Issac, Jackson even Scott, they need _you _ Derek but they're not going to wait around forever. You can't just keep pushing them away just so you can chase after a life you will never have again. I won't watch you do that because I know that when it blows up in your face – and it will- it's going to be us who have to pick up the pieces."

Okay, Stiles knew that was too far. He was going to open his stupid mouth to apologize but Derek beat him to it.

"Get out of here," he practically spat out.

"What?" asked Stiles, more out of shock because his limbs didn't appear to be working.

"Now."

The malice in that word cut deeper than any insult the guy could have come up with. Stiles didn't need to be told twice. He slowly backed away, eyes wandering to the house where a figure was watching them from the window. They soon shifted firmly back to the ground because Stiles couldn't bring himself to look up at Derek.

He wanted to blame Laura but really that speech was all on him. She hadn't asked him to do quite _that_.

* * *

Sam was giving him that look and Dean couldn't stand it. It was that knowing look mixed in with affection and a hint of smugness. On the one hand it kind of made Dean want to grin right back and flush with pride but on the other it was just so damn annoying and it did not belong on his little brother.

"Would you just cut it out?" he groaned at last when he could no longer endure it in silence.

"Cut what out?" I'm not doing anything," smirked Sam, looking up from the book he was reading. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

"Stop with the smug know-it-all look."

"I don't know what you mean." How for the love of god, did his smile grow even wider?

"Sam is just pleased because you made peace with the alpha like we asked you to," said Cas from the book _he _was flipping through.

"Thank you Captain Obvious." Dean rolled his eyes. "Why're you even reading that? Can't you just absorb the information or something?"

"I thought I'd try something new," said Cas absentmindedly.

"While we're in the middle of a case?"

"Yes."

A few seconds later he triumphantly set the ancient text aside and picked up another. He'd started it _fifteen _minutes ago. Dean didn't even want to ask why or how. "Nerd," he muttered instead.

The other two were too absorbed in their 'research' to answer so he cleared his throat, bored with pretending to read his own book on 'the history of fortune tellers: past, present and future'. "So, what do you guys think is up with Stiles?"

There was a pause. "I don't know, Dean. I mean there really aren't any of our normal signs..." he turned to Cas. "Is it possible we've got the wrong kid?" It was a question they'd asked many times before. The answer was usually the same.

"We have the right boy." And there it was.

"So are you gonna tell us _how _you know or is that classified too?" Dean prompted this time.

"I need you to trust me," Cas answered without missing a beat.

Not this time. "You know what, Cas? We need _you _to trust us because this blind faith thing is getting old."

Cas sighed, finally putting his book down and sitting up so he could face them. "There have been...whisperings of a boy who...runs with wolves. One who is supposed to play a role in the coming war. Perhaps not as large as yours," he looked to each of them pointedly, "but a role all the same."

"So we're sticking around because you're playing 'Guess Who?' with angels?" Cas looked slightly confused at that.

"Is there any reason you suspect Stiles?" asked Sam.

"Yes, of course," Cas replied.

"Well?"

"When you and Derek were arguing, the boy-"

"Stiles."

"-Stiles was getting increasingly agitated. I put it down to the normal human reaction to the situation but then I felt this build up of energy and it was all concentrated around his body, as though it had originated from within him. It was... I hadn't come across it before except-" Cas shook his head, "there was a power in him. I sensed it. We have the right boy."

"Alright, okay" said Sam thoughtfully. "Say Stiles is going to be a part of this fight. Don't you think it'd be better for us to just leave him be. Won't he be easier to find if he has us hanging near him? We're not exactly known for flying under the radar."

"Sam's right. It'd be like hanging a neon sign over his head saying 'pick me, I'm the chosen one!'"

Cas nodded. "However if we left we would be leaving him unprotected. If _we _were able to find him, the others will too and there will be no guarantee he will end up on the correct side."

"Dammit Cas, there _is _no correct side!" huffed Dean.

Cas looked just a tiny bit affronted. "The demons may find him, Dean and if they don't kill him you'll have to fight him."

Dean sighed. "I need another drink." He kicked his chair back and made for the mini fridge. "Sam?" he asked. Sam shook his head.

He was just about to open the bottle when there was a loud rapping on the small motel door. Sam and Cas immediately looked to him expectantly. "Do I have to?" he groaned. The other two didn't answer so Dean grudgingly fiddled with the latch and pulled the door open.

What he found was a Stiles. Not just any Stiles, a terrified, soaking wet and wheezing Stiles. The kid pushed past him immediately, slamming the door shut behind him before latching and locking it. He stood panting with his back to the door before sliding down into a heap on the floor.

"Stiles?" asked Sam, leaving his spot on the bed at once so he could cautiously approach the teenager. Dean found he really couldn't do much so he was happy to let Sam do his thing. He edged back to give his brother some room, reaching for the half empty bottle of water on the desk instead.

"You have to let me stay," Stiles breathed out.

"Of course you can," Sam told softly.

Stiles finally uncurled himself, accepting the drink Dean offered him with a grateful look. "Thank you."

* * *

**A/N: ** Sorry this was a little all over the place! Lots of love to all of you for putting up with this. As usual let me know what you think about the chapter and the show :)


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